


The Hangover: Part III

by eventualprocrastination



Category: The Hangover (Movies)
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Injury, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 61,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eventualprocrastination/pseuds/eventualprocrastination
Summary: 2 years after Bangkok, the guys head to NYC for a last minute weekend getaway for Phil's "divorce party" where they meet up with Stu's dental hygienist Samantha, also in town for her sister's wedding. 14 hours later, the hangover begins. [Eventual PhilxOC]





	1. The Call

The breeze was strong on the 86th floor Observatory Deck of the Empire State Building. The sun had risen only a few hours prior and it was looking to be a beautiful Sunday. Not a cloud in the sky.  
  
Except over the heads of four individuals standing aimlessly, damn near broken, separate and yet together while tourists flocked to the viewfinders to take in the panorama on each side of the iconic skyscraper.  
  
Phil Wenneck hunched forward with one hand gripping the safety fence as he stared out at Central Park before him, eighty-six stories below, twenty-five blocks away. His tired and bloodshot blue eyes were hidden by his caramel colored Aviator sunglasses and his clothes had seen better days; they were not only disheveled or tattered, but stained with grime, blood, sweat and other things that were undecipherable to the average passerby. His skin was bruised, cut, and had a sheen of sweat mixed with dirt. And somehow, he was still standing.  
  
His cell phone up to his ear, he squinted despite the sunglasses and the morning sun to his left. "I'm sorry, Trace. We fucked up royally this time." He paused a moment, turning slightly to look behind him at his friends.  
  
Stu Price stood, arms folded and wearing an ace bandage around his head while trying to ignore the questionable gaze from a security guard. Alan had his hands shoved in his pants pockets, his beard missing but his mustache in place, looking down at the ground as he shifted his weight around from foot to foot. A few feet in front of Stu and Alan, stood a female with auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail, dark sunglasses on her face as she rested her hands, clasped together, on top of her head, with a bruised right jaw and what might've been a puke stain on the front of the light pink dress she was wearing. She looked over and met Phil's gaze for a moment and then looked to her right, toward the East River.  
  
"I don't know what to say." He paused again to whatever it was Tracy was saying on the other end. He was wincing again. The security guard giving Stu the stank eye turned his attentions to Phil this time. _"Yeah_... _"_ he drawled slightly. "We didn't just lose Doug this time. We lost a bride, too."  
  
The security guard walked up to Phil and tapped him on the soldier, his expression all business.  
  
"And we're in some serious trouble."


	2. No More Barbie Doll

**THREE DAYS EARLIER (THURSDAY)**  
  
A middle-aged man in an expensive three-piece suit sat at a long, mahogany conference table; his back to the large window behind him, several Los Angeles skyscrapers beyond it. The expression he wore on his face was that of muted impatience as he stared at his Rolex and tapped a pen on the table. Across from him sat Phil Wenneck, hands folded on the table, offering an apologetic smile while avoiding eye contact with the blonde woman sitting two seats away on his right who had found something interesting with her nails. Suddenly, the door to the room opened up and a harried-looking, overweight woman, also middle-aged, came bustling in with a briefcase gripped under her arm and holding a few manilla envelopes that looked to be overflowing with important paperwork.  
  
"Sorry, sorry," she apologized, moving around the table to take a seat beside the man in the suit. Her attire was considerably less expensive. One would suspect second-hand, even? "Some Mexican selling oranges on the side of the road was struck by an SUV that jumped the curb. I had to take a different route, out of my way." She finally sat down, dropping the briefcase and folders on the table in front of her with an abrupt plop. She looked anxious, tired and happy at the same time as she glanced between Phil and the woman beside him. "Hello."  
  
"A call would've been nice," the suit remarked, his tone droll as he flipped open his own manilla folder and clicked the pen in his hands. He passed an official-looking sheet of paper across the table to Phil.  
  
"Sorry," the harried woman replied, defensively. "But I don't drive with my cell phone to my ear."  
  
"Ever heard of bluetooth?"  
  
"Ever heard of shut the fuck up?"  
  
Phil's eyebrows raised, surprised and amused. He finally met the gaze of the woman two seats away from him. It was his wife Stephanie. Both seemed to be maintaining a certain disdain for each other.  
  
"It's okay. We didn't mind waiting," Phil interjected, trying to keep the peace.  
  
"Speak for yourself," Stephanie mumbled, only audible enough for Phil to hear. He gave her a brief sideways glance and shook his head, trying to force a smile for the other pair.  
  
"Just sign the top line, Mr. Wenneck," the man, Stephanie's lawyer, informed.  
  
Looking down at the paper in front of him, he took the pen offered. "Anywhere else?" Phil inquired, pointing to the line in question toward the bottom of the form. The male lawyer shook his head. "Alright." Phil hunched forward a little, pressing the pen to paper and signing his signature. He then handed the pen to Stephanie and pushed the form to her as well.  
  
"You can sign the bottom line, below your husband's signature," the harried female, Phil's lawyer, pointing with a chubby finger.  
  
"Obviously," Stephanie remarked under her breath. She took no time to waste in signing the paper and as she did so, Phil's attention turned to something on Stephanie's left hand as she held the form in place to keep it from shifting around.  
  
"What the fuck is that, Steph?"  
  
"What?" she looked up at him, clicking the pen off and passing the form back to her lawyer.  
  
"The fucking rock on your hand," he pointed to the large diamond ring on her left ring finger.  
  
"What does it look like, Phil?"  
  
"What the _fuck_?" Standing up and pushing his chair back with the back of his legs, he pointed accusingly at her, then at the form they just signed which their lawyers were trying to go over at the moment. "The ink's not even fucking dry on our divorce papers and you're already engaged to that chink?"  
  
"Do you want me to mourn us, Phil? We split up officially a year ago. What would have been the proper wait time, huh? Another year? I don't think so."  
  
"Well, it's nice to know that after all these years I get to see you for who you really are."  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
"A whore!"  
  
" _Asshole_!"  
  
"Mr. Wenneck, Ms. Wenneck," Phil's lawyer tried to calm the two down. "Let's all just take it easy."  
  
"Fuck this," Phil threw his hands in the air. He turned and pointed at the form again. "Is there anything else I need to sign or do?"  
  
Stephanie's lawyer shook his head. "No. We're just going to file this and you can both go your separate ways. Consider yourselves officially divorced."  
  
"Halle- _fucking_ -lujah." He pushed his chair roughly up against the table with both hands.  
  
His lawyer leaned forward as her lawyer put the form back in his folder. "We understand you have agreed to your wife maintaining primary custody of the kids during the school week and with you having them on the weekends, correct? And you will alternate full weeks during the summer?"  
  
" _Yeah_...she's not my wife anymore. She's just a whore I married that gave birth to my kids," Phil spat.  
  
Stephanie nodded to their lawyers. "It's all set. Except not this weekend. My fiance and I are taking the kids to Disneyland."  
  
"Like fuck you are!"  
  
"We talked about this already, Phil. I told you that Ting and I wanted to take Eli and Penny to Disneyland the weekend after school was out for him for the summer to celebrate him going on to the next grade."  
  
Phil angrily stared back at Stephanie. Of course he remembered, but his kids were his kids. As much of a slightly prickish persona he could occasionally exude, his kids were the air he breathed and he just wanted them whenever possible, despite what people might think of him from time to time. He took his eyes off Stephanie and pulled his Aviator sunglasses out of his shirt pocket, placing them on the bridge of his nose.  
  
"Enjoy Disneyland. Try not to sleep with any other guys while you're there." He then added, "I'll call the kids tonight."  
  
With that, he turned away and all but stormed out of the conference room.

 

* * *

 

"Well, at least you got to keep the house."

  
It was about an hour later, and Phil was in the office of his friend Stu Price. The newly divorced Phil sat in one of two chairs across from Stu who sat at his desk in his white doctor's coat. His long legs stretched out before him as he slouched in the chair. Stu had just been informed on the goings-on at the divorce signing and was trying to offer Phil condolences.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Now I get to try and afford a mortgage on my own, on just a teacher's salary and I only get my kids on the weekends. I'm gonna be that dad now. Awesome."  
  
"Well, these things happen."  
  
"They weren't supposed to happen to me."  
  
Stu just looked at Phil, his expression bleak but with a hint of sympathy. "What are you going to do now?"  
  
Phil shrugged and was silent for a moment. Then a thought popped into his mind. "The one good thing about this whole divorce bullshit? Stephanie didn't want alimony. But the bitch is getting me for child support, which I don't care. Those are my kids and I'll sell the house and live in a fuckin' cardboard box if it means they're taken care of." He ran a hand through his hair. "The kicker in all this is after the papers were signed, I notice this big ass rock on her hand."  
  
Stu's eyes widened a little, the obvious sinking in. "Is she―?"  
  
"She's fuckin' engaged to Lauren's cousin Ding Dong or whatever the hell his name is."  
  
"Ting Deng."  
  
"Whatever. The point is she didn't waste any time, the whore."  
  
"Hey, we were all shocked about this, buddy. We didn't expect for Stephanie to meet one of Lauren's cousins at my wedding only to end up having an affair with him when we all got back stateside. And to be honest, Doug and I actually thought, between the two of you, that you would've been the one to cheat on Stephanie, not the other way around."  
  
Phil sat up straight and slapped the desk with his right hand before pointing at Stu, agreeing. "I know! Right?" Phil shook his head in disbelief, calming down only slightly. "Do me a favor and tell Lauren to keep the rest of her family away from anything that belongs to me. I don't want to wake up one morning and find out my car got jacked by some ninja uncle of hers or something."  
  
"Well, now you're just being ridiculous."  
  
"Am I?"  
  
At that moment, there came a knock to the office's door which was slightly ajar. "Yeah?"  
  
An auburn-haired woman in her early thirties popped her head inside the room with a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Hey, Stu. I just wanted to let you know I was leaving now. Oh, and Katie said there are only two more patients for the day."  
  
"Okay," Stu nodded.  
  
Phil swiveled in his chair to glance over at the woman who had moved her body to stand in the room more fully. "Hey Sam," he greeted with a nod of his head.  
  
"Hey, Phil."  
  
Sam, or Samantha Simmons rather, was one of Stu's dental hygienists. She wasn't bubbly like the others but she always smiled when necessary and never failed to supply a quick-witted one liner here and there whenever Phil or Doug came to visit Stu for shits and giggles or for an actual dental visit. Sam had joined the practice about a year before Stu's wedding in Bangkok and was always a pleasant face to see when the guys visited.  
  
"Thanks again for letting me skate out early today and for giving me tomorrow and Monday off as well."  
  
"It's no problem," Stu smiled, waving it off.  
  
This piqued Phil's curiosity.  
  
"Got a crazy weekend in Vegas with the girls planned?" he wondered. He gestured between himself and Stu. "Been there, done that."  
  
Sam smirked. "I wish, but no. My sister's wedding."  
  
Stu spoke up, glancing at Phil. "I told her she could take the whole week. I mean, it's all the way across the country."  
  
"Oh, yeah? Whereabouts?" wondered Phil.  
  
Sam was about to reply when Stu answered for her. "New York."  
  
"The city?" Phil asked, interested.  
  
"Long Island, actually. But I'm perfectly fine with the few days I'm taking. Any longer and I'd end up slitting my wrists," she insisted, dryly. "I really don't need a whole week to have the fact that my little sister is getting married before me rubbed in my face."  
  
Phil let a small chuckle escape his lips as he met Sam's eye for a moment. They smiled platonically at each other before Sam turned her attention back to Stu and thanked him again before ducking completely out of the office. Phil rolled the chair he was in toward the door, craning his neck to watch Sam walking away down the corridor toward the receptionist desk.  
  
"Phil," Stu chastised.  
  
Phil snapped his head back up but with his whole body was still leaning back, halfway out the door. "What?"  
  
"You're ogling my hygienist."  
  
"Am not."  
  
"I beg to differ." He adjusted his glasses on his nose and furrowed his brow. "And she's not exactly your type."  
  
"And what exactly is my type?"  
  
"Well, you've always gone for the tall, thin blondes. The Barbies, if you will." Off Phil's defensive, withering look, Stu continued. "Take Stephanie, for example. You married a Barbie."  
  
Phil rolled his chair forward, returning all the way back into the office. "Maybe I need to start going for Barbie's friend Midge, then."  
  
Stu raised an eyebrow. "It worries me that you know the names of Barbie's friends."  
  
"Dude, I do have a daughter, you know."  
  
"Who's barely three and still thinks an empty box is hilarious."


	3. Pity Party

It was later in the evening that same day when the front door to Phil's house clicked shut as both Doug and Stu stepped slowly into the front hall, immediately taking in the sight of the downstairs interior. They walked to the left, into the wide archway of the joint living and dining room. The entire area was completely and utterly void of any furniture or decoration with the exception of a few photos of Phil's kids on the wall, two folding lawn chairs, a TV tray adorned with a bottle of Budweiser and across from that, in front of a large picture window which was missing its curtains, sat a 48 inch plasma flat screen TV propped up by a few open boxes full of books.  
  
Doug looked at Stu who couldn't seem to contain his amusment over the sight. "Did Phil get robbed?" Doug wondered, a hint of a laugh in his voice, but mostly concern.  
  
Before Stu could comment, Phil sauntered in from the kitchen, holding a carton of Chinese food in one hand and a fork in the other. He looked up at his friends, mid bite. "Hey guys," he spoke with a mouthful. He set the fork in the carton and grabbed the beer up off the TV tray, knocking back a sip to wash down the food. "You're early."  
  
"I know you got to keep the house, but _damn_...she took everything! Like...literally," Stu remarked, still taking in the surroundings.  
  
Phil shrugged. "Steph picked all the shit out anyway. And this is the worst room. She left the appliances in the kitchen, our bed upstairs, most of the kids' things. A lot of the stuff Tiny Dong already has."  
  
"Ting Deng," Stu once again corrected. "Lauren wanted me to tell you she's very sorry about this all and feels bad for her cousin's part in this. Her whole family is quite ashamed."  
  
"It's not her family's fault my wife—oh, excuse me—my _ex_ -wife fell in love with another man while she was supposed to be married to me. I didn't realize I had been such a horrible husband to her."  
  
Doug frowned, stepping closer. "Phil, you aren't...weren't. You were very loving and devoted."  
  
"Then it must be that my dick wasn't small enough to her liking."  
  
"And you're a great father," Stu offered, ignoring the jab at the Asian stereotype. His wife was Thai-born. Phil's comments were a bit offensive to him at times.  
  
Phil stopped all movements and just stood there, looking between the other two, raising an eyebrow. He picked up the fork once again and gestured to them. "What is this?"  
  
"What's what?" Stu wondered.  
  
"Is this a fucking pity party? I don't need a fucking pity party," the blue-eyed schoolteacher all but growled. "What I need is to have some fun to take my mind off the shit storm my life has become." He shoved the fork back into the carton and set it down onto the TV tray alongside the beer bottle. He did it too roughly though, causing the carton to tip over, spilling lo mein noodles onto the tray. The movement caused the bottle to wobble and it, too, fell over, rolling off the tray and onto the floor; what was left of the beer inside spilling out but the bottle didn't break. "My wife leaves me for Bruce Lee and what do I do? Order Asian food!"  
  
Doug's eyes drifted to the mess on the floor, then back up to Phil. "What do you want to do for fun, Phil? We could all go out for a few drinks tonight, play some darts, or take in a good ol' fashioned action movie." Dear Doug, ever the levelheaded and thoughtful one of the group. He spoke in more relaxing tones and it always seemed to calm the others down in a crisis or tense situation. "Or, we could go look at strippers if that's what you need."  
  
Phil perked up, pointing at Doug without looking at him. He had one hand on his hip, staring at a spot on the floor as if deep in thought. "That's actually not a bad idea. Fake breasts bouncing around always puts me in a good mood."  
  
Stu felt unsure about the suggestion. "I don't think strippers is necessarily the best idea."  
  
Doug smirked. "Worried you'll fall in love with one, buddy?" he asked, slapping the dentist on the back with a smile on his face.  
  
"Ha ha. Funny. I just don't think seeing strippers for one night is going to make Phil feel any better." He looked at Doug. "He'll be back here a few hours later, alone in his house with no one here, left with nothing to do other than feel sorry for himself."  
  
Phil glared at Stu. "Thanks for reminding me how much my life sucks ass right now, Stu. You're a great friend."  
  
"You said it yourself, your life is a shit storm."  
  
"Let's just grab a few beers here then and think about what we can do to give Phil a pick-me-up." Doug started to walked toward the direction of the kitchen, knowing full well that Phil would have it stocked with beer as his beverage of choice in the fridge.  
  
"A stripper could give me a pick-me-up if you catch my drift," Phil called after his shorter friend, both hands now on his narrow hips. He twisted his lips as a thought began to form in his head, his eyes narrowing. "Actually..."  
  
Stu was moving to crouch down and pick the beer bottle and food Phil had accidentally dropped up off the floor. He didn't know why he felt the need to clean up after his friend but it seemed like the thing to do. Plus, the room had such nice, hardwood floors. It'd be a shame to let a stain set in. "Hmm?" Stu looked up at Phil.  
  
"I have a great idea."  
  
This time it was Stu who began to narrow his eyes, but for the reason of being wary of whatever was on Phil's mind. "Do I wanna know?"  
  
"Of course. My ideas are epic. Remember that time in college and I said we should all start a band?"  
  
"Yeah, that lasted about two weeks because I'm the only one who plays any instruments."  
  
"You were supposed to teach us the guitar."  
  
"I did," Stu insisted, standing upright. "You didn't want to listen to my instruction and you threw the guitar at me if my memory serves me correctly."  
  
Phil smirked. "That was pretty funny."  
  
"Not to me."  
  
"That's 'cause you're a pussy."  
  
Stu rolled his eyes as Doug returned to the living/dining room with three beer bottles, uncapped. He handed both guys one and kept the third for himself. "In Phil's defense, you were a crappy guitar teacher."  
  
"See?" Phil pointed. "I was acting out because you weren't instructing me properly."  
  
"Can we forget the band that never was and focus on changing your life from a shit storm to a double rainbow."  
  
"That's so gay."  
  
Stu shot his taller friend a withering look, holding his beer in front of his chest. "I will walk out that door right now and go home to fuck my beautifully pregnant, Asian wife if you don't shut the fuck up." He was serious, but the other two knew that he wouldn't follow through with the threat. But the dig at Phil was felt and it was uncalled for, and Stu knew it the second the words slipped past his lips.  
  
Phil's smile faded and he brought the beer to his lips. "I need to get wasted," he spoke plainly. "Just...fucking obliterated."  
  
"What was the great idea you were talking about before you and Stu brought up the band that never was?" Doug tried steering the conversation somewhere productive.  
  
"Oh," Phil licked his bottom lip and looked from Doug to Stu. "Yeah, I was just thinking about maybe I should go away for the weekend. It's not like I'm working right now with school being done for the summer. Plus this weekend the Wicked Witch and Godzilla are taking my kids to Disneyland. It might be good for me to get away for a while." He then shrugged, like he was trying to hint toward something. "But, it's not something I'd wanna do alone, you know what I mean?"  
  
Doug's brow rose with understanding. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he asked carefully.  
  
"What?" Stu was a little behind on the train of thought at the moment. Then it hit him. "Wait...no. Noooo." He shook his head. Phil began to smile a devilishly charming grin while Doug just brought his beer to his lips and smirked. "We are not going on another getaway. Do we not remember what happened the last two times?"  
  
"Well, technically nothing happened to me the last time. I was at the resort in Thailand the entire weekend," Doug offered up.  
  
"But the time before that...we lost you and you turned into a lobster," Stu reminded, still not having taken a sip from his beer.  
  
"Maybe, but think about the fun we had," Phil tried convincing.  
  
"We don't remember the fun because we'd been drugged! We spent two days going to hell and back figuring out what so-called fun we had." Stu looked at Phil and Doug, trying to make them see reason. Phil, obviously, was on board for another trip since it was his idea for one, and Doug seemed to be fine with whatever would be decided in the end, though it also seemed that he was leaning more toward the trip idea than not taking one at all. "We do insane shit when we're...obliterated, as you so eloquently put it," he spoke, letting his gaze fall on Phil. "We steal cop cars and tigers, marry hookers, get teenagers' fingers chopped off and start riots in foreign countries!"  
  
"And get fucked by a shemale," Phil muttered with a hearty laugh just waiting to burst forth.  
  
"And get fu—" Stu stopped himself from repeating what Phil said. His face went stone cold.  
  
"We did that because we'd been drugged, not drunk. We've never done shit that crazy when just regular drunk. The drugs in our system blew everything out of proportion," Doug justified.  
  
"Yeah," Phil agreed. "It was the drugs."  
  
The trio fell silent, each contemplating different factions of the idea at hand.  
  
"Well," Stu began, "I suppose I wouldn't be too against going away for a weekend as long as Alan didn't come, and we watched what went into our food and drinks. We could actually go to Napa Valley this time, maybe hit up some bars around there."  
  
Doug wasn't sold on the Napa idea, and obviously Phil wasn't.  
  
"Actually..." Doug and Stu both looked at Phil. "I kinda want to bring Alan along."  
  
"Seriously?" Doug inquired.  
  
"Are you already on drugs?" Stu questioned.  
  
"No, I mean it. As much of an oddball he is, we have fun with him and...remember...his dad pays for anything he does. Or breaks. And, don't forget he, like, idolizes me or something."  
  
"That's true," Doug nodded. "He does seem to have a man crush on you."  
  
Phil pointed at Doug with the same hand he held his beer in. "Exactly. I bet you I could convince him to make him think a trip is his idea, that I can't afford to go away for a weekend to just get away from it all."  
  
"That part is true, though," Stu pointed out. "You're living on a teacher's salary with child support payments and a mortgage. You can't afford to go away."  
  
"Shut up, Stu." Phil just stared at his nerdier friend. "The point is," he continued. "Alan could possibly pay, if not for most of the trip, then all of it. Or rather, his dad."  
  
"I don't know about that, Phil." Doug was now uncertain. "I don't like the idea of using Alan just so we can get away on a decent trip. And if Tracy found out we tricked her brother, she'd kill me."  
  
"We're not going to use him. I have some extra money stashed away for shit like this. If I have to, I'll spend as much as it as I think I need to, but either way, I want to get away for a few days. If somehow Alan happens to think he's come up with the idea to treat me in my hour of need, then so be it." There was something mischievous in Phil's eyes as he spoke. Like there was a devil inside waiting to capture a person's soul by the way his eyes sparkled.  
  
"So, you're going to call Alan and drop hints then?" Stu asked.  
  
"Basically, yeah."  
  
"If he agrees to this trip idea and whether or not he treats you and himself, or all of us...please, for the love of God, make sure he brings no drugs with him whatsoever. No roofies, no muscle relaxers...nothing. He brings himself and stays on his best behavior or we send him packing." Stu was laying his foot down.  
  
Phil smirked and gestured for his two best friends to come closer for a group hug. They obliged him and stepped up to him as Phil wrapped his arms around their shoulders. "I think it's safe to say that my pity party is officially over and, now...onto the next party."  
  
"And what party is that exactly?" Doug asked.  
  
"Well, before a guy get's married, there are engagement parties, bachelor parties, rehearsal dinner parties, even anniversary parties while the marriage is going good..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"What about when a marriage ends? When a guy really needs a party the most?" Doug and Stu looked up at Phil, questions in their eyes. "I'm gonna have myself a divorce party, boys."


	4. Alan's Amends

Night had since fallen at the Garner residence when a black, 2007 Ford Explorer pulled into the driveway, parked in front of the large garage. Doug hopped out of the passenger's seat while Phil stepped out of the driver's side, jangling his keys in his hands as he joined his shorter friend around the front of the vehicle. Phil looked up at the house seeing a window upstairs with the light on. The blinds moved, suggesting someone had just been staring down at the pair, now walking up toward the front door.  
  
"You really think you can make Alan think this whole trip idea is his?" Doug questioned, feeling doubtful, as he peered at Phil's profile.  
  
Phil scoffed as if it was obvious he could. "Have you met me? I could talk a nun out of her habit and make her think it was God's will."  
  
"Dude, that is so messed up."  
  
The twosome headed inside the house where Doug was greeted by his wife of four years, Tracy and their two-year-old daughter Sarah who was asleep, perched on Tracy's hip.  
  
"Tracy," Phil smiled, greeting his friend's wife with a kiss to the cheek. He instinctively brought his hand to the back of little Sarah's head, touching gently down upon her soft, dark brown hair. His smile widened as he looked the toddler over. It was one of those sweet and tender moments where someone who didn't know Phil would easily assume he was Mr. Sensitive.  
  
"Hey, Phil. How you holding up?"  
  
He shrugged, removing his hand from Sarah's head and shoving both his hands halfway into his pockets. "I can't complain." Then, without missing a beat, "Oh, wait. Yes, I can." His genuine smile turned a bit rueful as he met Tracy's eye and then looked over to Doug.  
  
"How's my angel?" he asked about his daughter, moving closer to place a kiss on her shoulder, then her puffy cheek which was exposed.  
  
"She was very good tonight. She actually ate the food I put in front of her and played for a long time with her Uncle Alan till she got so pooped out she fell asleep next to Tucker on the floor."  
  
"Aww," Doug cooed.  
  
The pang of longing in Phil's chest for his own kids was so completely obvious by the expression on his face, but it went unnoticed by the couple in front of them as their attention was focused on their sleeping child. "So, uh..." he spoke to interrupt the pair and bring their attention back to why Phil was there. "Is Alan upstairs?"  
  
Tracy looked, not suspicious, but immediately curious. "He's in his room. Why?"  
  
Phil shrugged again. "Oh, just thought that since I was here I'd pay him a visit."  
  
Tracy considered this for a moment, narrowing her eyes slightly and then gave a quick nod of her head. "Well, that's really nice of you. He'd love a visit."  
  
"Yeah, I thought so, too." Phil smirked and threw his hands up as if saying, _What are ya gonna do?_ "Wolf pack and all."  
  
Tracy let out a slight laugh and raised her eyebrows. "In that case I can only imagine what's going to be entailed in this visit."  
  
Phil looked back over at Doug and gestured to see if he was following. Doug gave his daughter another kiss and then touched Tracy's arm briefly, letting her know he would be back down soon and they could head home for the night. As he joined Phil's side, both men walked up the staircase and headed in the direction of Alan's closed bedroom door which had a 'Danger: Genius At Work' sign on it.  
  
"I hope you're right about your skills of manipulation, Phil," Doug muttered quietly.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Phil lifted his hand to knock on the door but before he could even make contact with his knuckles upon the surface, the door swung open, revealing Alan, grinning from ear to ear, solely at Phil.  
  
"Phil!" Alan all but squealed. He was dressed in black, Spandex shorts and maroon robe similar to the one Hugh Hefner was known to wear.  
  
Phil smiled charmingly. "Hey bud―" He was cut off by the abruptness in which Alan stepped forward and immediately embraced him in a hug that was tight enough to cut off air flow to Phil's lungs.  
  
"I missed you! Hey Doug," Alan added, glancing quickly to his brother-in-law but back to Phil just as quickly. "I didn't expect you to show up here tonight. Come in." Alan stood aside with his left arm outstretched as he ushered Doug and Phil into his room, closing the door behind them after all were inside.  
  
Doug had already been in the room more than enough to know about the contents within, but Phil had only been there once before, when Stu invited Alan to his wedding two years prior. Phil stood, turning around in place, as he took everything in. There was a Jonas Brothers poster near the bed that wasn't there two years ago, a Pac Man arcade game in one corner and so many pictures all over. Phil knew Alan had printed the photos off his camera from Vegas, but there were different photos.  
  
"Holy shit," Phil laughed, moving over to one grouping of photos. "Where did you get the photos from Bangkok?"  
  
Alan watched the way Phil studied the photos and smiled like a child who's parent thought their finger painting was the next Van Gogh. "I emailed Teddy and he sent them to me from his phone."  
  
"Holy shit," came Phil's repeated comment, finding the shots amusing. He'd nearly forgot some of them as they were the only evidence of that trip as the guys had once again blacked out and had no memory of those twelve hours at all.  
  
Doug just nodded. "Yeah, it's a good thing Stu didn't come." He pointed to a photo to the left of where Phil was staring. The photo in question was one of Stu, naked and crying with the naked tranny stripper Kimmy behind him.  
  
"Wow." Phil turned around to look at Alan who seemed proud of his collection. "You printed out the pictures from Bangkok, too? Dude, you're not gonna remember what color your walls are pretty soon at this rate."  
  
"I'm glad you like it. I was thinking of becoming an interior decorator."  
  
Phil just looked at Alan again with more of a questioning gaze but shrugged it off. "Well, you'd definitely be a visionary in the field." He looked once more at the photos, noting one of him from the wedding reception where he was dancing with Stephanie. Instantly, his smiled disappeared and he grabbed the photo off the wall. "Could you get rid of this one, though, buddy?"  
  
"Does it make you think angry thoughts about your failed marriage?"  
  
"Alan," Doug spoke with a wary tone toward the bearded man.  
  
"It does," Phil replied simply.  
  
"If I were Stephanie, I wouldn't have cheated on you like a dirty whore."  
  
"If you were Stephanie, Alan, that would be weird and unsettling, but I appreciate the sentiment."  
  
Alan smiled and took a seat on the edge of his bed, pushing some issues of Teen People off onto the floor and patting the spot beside him for Phil to sit down. Doug smirked at the gesture and took a seat at Alan's computer desk. Casually, Phil obliged Alan. After all, he had a mission and making Alan happy was part of the mission.  
  
"So, how've you been Alan?" Phil asked, leaning forward slightly with his hands clasped between his knees as he looked at the chubby man beside him.  
  
"I've been pretty busy. Being a stay-at-home son and full time uncle is a neverending job. And I'm running this site online that's up and coming."  
  
"Yeah, well, kids can be a handful," Phil conceded.  
  
"What kind of site are you running?" Doug interjected, helping Phil with the small talk before they got down to brass tacks.  
  
"Only the most tasteful and best site on the interwebs."  
  
"And what's that, Al?" Phil pressed.  
  
"The Jonas Brothers, of course." Alan said it as if it was common knowledge so Phil just looked at him and nodded as if understanding.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"How have you been, Phil? Is your divorce final now?"  
  
"It's final. Signed the papers today."  
  
"I'm sorry for your loss." Alan reached out and took both of Phil's hands in his, holding them there as if consoling a grieving widower at a funeral. "I also understand she left you for Lauren's Thaiwanese cousin," he added, pronouncing Thai as thigh.  
  
That was the in Phil needed. He looked over at Doug and then dropped his head grimly for theatrics. Heartbreak in his eyes, he nodded. "It's been very hard and lonely. I'm glad I have such great friends during a time like this but when I go home, it's just me now. Sometimes I wish I could just get away from it all, even if only for a few days."  
  
"What do you mean, Phil?" Doug asked, playing along.  
  
Phil met Doug's eye again and continued. "I dunno, I've been thinking about how the last time I think I really had any fun was when we were all together in Thailand for Stu's wedding. Sure, it was crazy and a few times we almost died, but that comraderie and that amazing place, it was almost..." he trailed off for affect, trying to stare off as if lost in the moment  
  
"Magical," Alan finished the sentence.  
  
Phil bobbed his head with a yes. "That's exactly what it was. It was magical." Now to lay it on thick. "Someday I'll get to go on another trip like that with the three of you, when my kids are grown and I'm done paying child support."  
  
"Phil, that's not for another fifteen or sixteen years." It was as if Doug and Phil were tag-teaming each other within the conversation. Phil set something up and Doug interjected with something to further it along, to reel Alan in. Doug wasn't totally keen on doing it, but when it came down to it, he was a little nervous that if Phil didn't get out of dodge for a while, he would start to go down a downward spiral and spin out of control. He had been a horrible player before he met and married Stephanie and she had seemed to be the beacon he needed in his life to give him stability and comfort. A year ago, that rug was pulled out from underneath him, leaving him a bit lost, personally. Doug wasn't doing this to manipulate Alan into treating them all to a trip, or just treating himself and Phil to it. He was doing it for Phil. Because he knew Phil would do the same for him.  
  
"There's nothing I can do about it, man," Phil continued on. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, frowning with a slight sigh. "Money's going to be tight for me for a long time to come. No more extras."  
  
"I'll take you wherever you want to go, Phil."  
  
Phil and Doug looked at Alan. That was quick.  
  
"What?" Phil asked, honestly. He wasn't expecting Alan to pony up that soon.  
  
"We're a wolf pack and a wolf pack stays together through thick and thin. When one wolf is hurting or needs help, the other wolves rise to the occasion. Like the Golden Girls when Rose lost her husband and moved in with the other ladies."  
  
Phil smirked at the random reference. "What are you suggesting, Al?"  
  
"We should all go on a trip together. My treat."  
  
Doug caught Phil's eye. "Uh, Alan...that's really kind of you, but you don't have to do that. Even if we did all go on a trip, I can afford to pay my own way, as I'm sure Stu can."  
  
"No. I have to do this," Alan adamantly spoke, standing up with his fists balled. He looked down toward his feet and an expression of sadness or possibly guilt spread over his face.  
  
"Why do you _have_ to?" Phil was actually taken aback. The plan to get Alan thinking it was his idea about the trip had gone off more easily than he could've imagined but he couldn't understand Alan's urgence over it.  
  
"Because I owe you guys. I screwed up in Vegas and Thailand." Again with the mispronunciation of the Asian country. "It was my fault we got into that trouble. It's my fault Stu married that whore, Teddy lost his finger, that Mr. Chow got arrested by that federal agent that took my hat." Then he added, sadly, "And monkey got shot."  
  
"You didn't know what would happen, Alan," Doug assured. "You just wanted us to have a good time. Your heart was in the right place."  
  
"It means a lot that you think so, but I need to make amends for my past mistakes and treating all of us to a nice vacation is what I must do."  
  
Phil was truly touched by Alan's insistence and his reasons behind it. Phil suddenly felt moved, which, if it was made known and it had happened to anyone else, he probably would've called them a faggot. This time, however, he started to see Alan as more than just the weirdo Doug had married into the family of. He was _their_ weirdo.  
  
Without further ado, he stood up and pulled Alan into a bro hug, patting his back. "I can't begin to thank you for this, man. You're a real good friend, you know that?"  
  
When he released the stocky man from the hug, Alan kicked his feet at the ground and smiled as if saying, _Oh shucks_. "You really think so?"  
  
"Do I _think_ so? Fuck, I _know_ so." Phil laughed. He gestured with his hand for Doug to stand up. "C'mon, let's give this tubby fucker a group hug."  
  
Doug smiled and got up, getting on the other side of Alan. The three embraced as heterosexually as possible, with Alan like a kid at Christmas.  
  
"We should hug again like this when we're together with Stu. Then the circle will be complete."  
  
"Alright, buddy. Just, not in public."  
  
"Okay," Alan concurred quietly. It was obvious he had been planning a big group hug in some public setting in his mind at that moment before Phil shot it down.


	5. Alan's Choice

**FRIDAY**  
  
It was about eight-thirty in the morning when Phil and Stu arrived together in Phil's Ford Explorer. He found a place to park in one of the parking ramps. He then turned the ignition off and hopped out, shutting the door as Stu did the same. They walked to the back of the vehicle and pulled their suitcases out. Phil had a simple over the shoulder number that was packed light and he could take with him on the plane as a carry-on. Stu had packed a little heavier for God knows what reason and was pulling a rolling suitcase behind him as they walked toward the Delta terminal.  
  
The night before, Phil hadn't stayed much longer at the Garner home once Alan insisted on paying for the trip for everyone. After the hugs, they decided to leave the next morning if it was okay with Tracy and Lauren to let their respective husbands go and play for a few days. Apprehensive at first, Tracy finally gave in after a solid twenty minutes of convincing her this time would be different, that Alan felt horrible about the previous two times and was going to do everything in his power to do the right thing. Doug and Phil insisted they would keep a better eye on him, just in case. When Doug got the go ahead, he called Stu who had gone home after the one drink and the last half of the Dodgers game at Phil's house. He brought it up to Lauren who thought it was fine, feeling as if it she was still somehow responsible for Stephanie leaving Phil for her cousin Ting Deng. Stu had then called back to say he got the go-ahead and the plans were set in motion.  
  
Once Phil had arrived home, leaving Doug to return to his own home with Tracy and Sarah, he called up Alan to say everyone was available for the weekend. More "conference" calling went on until just after midnight where Phil confirmed with all of them they would meet at LAX by nine in the morning so they could catch an early enough flight to wherever it was they would be going and the entire day wouldn't be wasted in travel.  
  
"I can't believe we didn't settle on a destination beforehand," Stu muttered as they stepped into the airport, waiting for Doug to arrive with Alan. "More importantly, I'm surprised Lauren didn't mind me picking up and leaving for a few days."  
  
"She's cool like that. You got yourself a good one, Stu."  
  
Stu smiled happily, with a small nod of his head. "Yeah, I lucked out."  
  
Phil was slightly distracted, looking over several heads to see if the other two had shown up yet. "How did you get out of work, by the way?"  
  
"It's my practice. I just called my receptionist bright and early and told her I had an aunt who died suddenly last night and I had to go out of town for the funeral for a few days. I told her to reschedule any appointments for today and Monday for another time next week and for any dental emergencies to be given to a colleague of mine who owns his own practice off Laurel Canyon Boulevard."  
  
"Is that the guy who almost lost his medical license for feeling up a patient who was under general anaesthesia?"  
  
"No, that was Dr. Bob and Dr. Bob did in fact lose his license after a civil suit was brought against him," Stu replied nonchalantly. "He sells cars now somewhere in Studio City. I was referring to another dentist, Dr. Adam Howarth."  
  
"Yeah, no offense, but I'm already bored now." Phil, blunt as ever. And not that he really cared either. He'd only gotten about four hours of sleep, heading to bed around one in the morning only to wake up slightly after five. He had woken up, showered, changed and packed what little he was bringing. He then had to pick Stu up and drive through morning rush hour traffic to get to the airport. He was tired and his eyes showed it.  
  
Stu just frowned and turned slightly. "Well, you asked."  
  
"Not for your life story, man." He then changed the subject. "Remind me to buy a few of those 5-Hour Energy drinks before we get on the plane." He widened his eyes and blinked several times in a matter of seconds to wake himself up a bit more. "The coffee I had at home and the second one on the way here just isn't cutting it."  
  
After about ten more minutes, Doug and Alan could finally be found walking in from outside. Doug was packed as light as Phil and dressed as comfortably as Phil and Stu. Doug and Stu both wore a pair of khaki colored chinos, but Doug wore a gray T-shirt with the Dodgers logo over the chestplate whereas Stu wore a plaid, buttoned up short sleeve shirt. Very Stu. Phil was probably the most comfortable in a pair of relaxed fit jeans and also a T-shirt; his was light blue and the shirt read in small white letters: _I COULD USE A LITTLE SEXUAL HARASSMENT_.  
  
Alan, on the other hand, was a whole other story. His head held high as he walked, he was wearing a three-piece suit with a white dress shirt, a maroon ascot and a black fedora on his head. For his luggage, he had a rolling suitcase like Stu and for whatever reason he held a briefcase in his free hand.  
  
"Phil, Stu. Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Alan greeted.  
  
"Indeed it is, Alan," Phil agreed with a smirk.  
  
"So, have we decided where we're going?" Doug inquired, looking at the ticket counters. "Phil?"  
  
"Actually, I was thinking of leaving the decision up to Alan." Phil stepped up to Alan and placed a hand on his back while looking at the other two. "He's been so generous to treat us to this, I think it's only right he picks the destination."  
  
"Oh, God," Stu rolled his eyes.  
  
"Really, Phil, do you mean it?"  
  
"Yup," nodded Phil. "Just...keep it within the forty-eight continental states, alright?"  
  
Alan all but squealed, gazing up at Phil with the admiration a little brother had for his big brother. "This is better than the time I found a dollar bill and an upopened bag of Skittles in a dumpster."  
  
Stu narrowed his eyes and just stared at Alan. "What were you doing in a dumpster to begin with?"  
  
Alan looked back. "Looking for awesome treasure." The others chalked it up to another Alan-ism, when he also added, "You know, one man's trash is another man's treasure."  
  
"But a dumpster is so...unsanitary."  
  
"Tomato, potato."  
  
"I think you mean tomato, to- _mah_ -to or potato, po- _tah_ -to," Phil corrected.  
  
"No," Alan answered, very sure of himself. "It's tomato, potato."  
  
Phil was going to say something again, but Doug just held his hand up and shook his head, mouthing something to the affect of not bothering. "Alright then, Alan," Phil decided to change the subject back to their destination. "Where do you want to take us for three days and three nights?"  
  
Alan fell silent, considering all the options he had from the Pacific to the Atlantic. Slowly, the perfect destination came to mind and he began to grin, looking between Phil, Stu and Doug.  
  


* * *

  
About an hour and a half later, the guys boarded a nonstop Delta flight out of LAX which lasted five hours and forty minutes. The plane touched down onto tarmac and the guys began to stir. They were each sitting in First Class seats Alan had sprung for, insisting he would spare no expense. Stu pointed out at the ticket counter that it wasn't really his money, but his father's, to which Alan had laughed off, saying the credit card he paid with was his "executive expense card" he got for being a stay-at-home son.  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we'd like to welcome you to New York City. The current time is six thirty-seven, the current temperature here at the airport is seventy-nine degrees," a lovely flight attendant announced from the front of the plane. She was probably in her mid twenties and had been occassionally catching the eye of Phil, who she had made an extra effort in making sure was comfortable all during the flight because of those beautiful blue eyes and smile of his. "As you exit the plane, make sure to gather all of your belongings. Anything left behind will be distributed evenly among the flight attendants. Please do not leave children or spouses. Also, we'd like to thank you folks for flying with us today. And, the next time you get the insane urge to go blasting through the skies in a pressurized metal tube, we hope you'll think of Delta Airlines."  
  
The guys looked around at each other, smiling and chuckling at the flight attendant's good humor as they got out of their seats and grabbed their belongings from the overhead compartments. They exited the plane with the same flight attendant shaking Phil's hand goodbye and giving him a wink. As they made their way through the jetway that connected the gate to the plane, Phil looked down at the hand that did the shaking to find a balled up piece of paper. He opened it, finding the flight attendant's name and number written on it. Phil smirked and pocketed the paper as they stepped out of their gate.  
  
Five minutes later, they made it down to the baggage claim where Alan and Stu were able to get their suitcases. The next fifteen minutes, however, would be spent trying to find a taxi to take them all to a hotel. And what hotel that would be was unknown. It was in Alan's hands, which had Stu and Doug a little nervous, but Phil didn't seem to mind. He just enjoyed the excitement of not knowing what was going to happen next.  
  
After finally hailing a taxi and throwing their shit into the trunk, Stu, Phil and Doug clamored into the backseat while Alan had to sit up front with the driver. The three in the back smiled at each other while Alan struck up random conversation with the driver, who was clearly of the stereotypical Indian heritage, asking such questions as how long he'd been a cabbie, if he liked humus and if he always wore that turban. Stu facepalmed himself a few times, while Doug and Phil seemed enthralled by the Manhattan skyline coming into view as the taxi drove over the Queensboro Bridge.  
  
"Alan, where did you tell the driver to take us?" Stu asked, quite clueless and his stomach growling. It was already seven-thirty and he just wanted to check into a decent hotel, take a quick shower and find somewhere with something to eat. He'd settle for a vendor selling hot dogs on the side of the road.  
  
"You'll see," Alan replied covertly.  
  
Less than five minutes later, they turned onto 5th Avenue, only one block from Central Park, and pulled up in front of the famed Plaza Hotel. Phil, Doug and Stu immediately turned their attentions upon the building with disbelief and excitement mixed in their eyes.  
  
"Fuckin' sweet," Phil cooed, the first to hop out as he craned his neck upward to take everything in.  
  
After the others piled out and grabbed their luggage, Doug paid the cab fare plus tip, insisting against Alan's continued claims that this was all his treat, to which Doug said paying for the flights and hotel stay was more than enough of a treat and he didn't have to waste his money any further. The doorman opened the door for them and they stepped inside, automatically caught up in its splendor. Alan walked side by side with Phil as they headed to the front desk to book their room.  
  
"Hello, and welcome to the Plaza Hotel," the female desk clerk greeted. "Do you have a reservation?"  
  
Alan brought his briefcase up to set on the counter. He clicked it open and pulled out his wallet. "It's under the name Alan Garner." He removed his driver's license and passed it to the woman.  
  
Phil peered briefly into the briefcase and couldn't help but chuckle a little under his breath. He took a step back so Alan couldn't see him gesturing and mouthing to Doug and Phil that Alan had a few bags of Skittles inside the briefcase.  
  
"Ah, yes, Mr. Garner. We have you and your friends booked for three nights in the Royal Plaza Suite." The desk clerk clicked at the keys of the computer's keyboard a few more times.  
  
"The Royal Plaza Suite?" Stu repeated. "That sounds expensive."  
  
"It's our best and largest suite available."  
  
"What's included in the suite, if I may ask?" Phil spoke up.  
  
"It has three bedrooms, three baths, and it's located in a private area of the hotel with an array of magnificent views. There's a living room featuring a grand piano, dining room which seats up to twelve people, a kitchen in which you could retain the services of a personal chef for during your stay. Also, there is a private gym with state-of-the-art equipment, high speed internet access, flat screen TVs and a private elevator." She smirked at the way they all seemed to appear as deer caught in the headlights, save for Alan who had known all this ahead of time.  
  
"Fuck me blind," Phil brusquely commented.  
  
"You're check-out time will be on Monday at noon." She continued, sliding four card keys onto the counter, one for each guy. "Here are the keys to your suite. Will you be needing the butler service or any dinner reservations?"  
  
Doug shook his head, still in disbelief. "Nah, I think we're just gonna take a while to let it all soak in and then find a little place to eat. We're a little jet lagged and need to walk around for a bit."  
  
"Alright then. Enjoy your stay."  
  
Alan took his license back once the desk clerk had added his information down. He returned it to his wallet and then closed it inside his briefcase, picking it up and grabbing one of the four card keys. The other three did the same as they headed toward the direction of the elevators; namely, their private one.  
  
"How in the hell were you able to book the best suite the hotel has to offer, the day of?" Stu wondered, staggering forward as he glanced at everything around him. He was a little bit in shock.  
  
Alan just chuckled as if he knew something naughty. "Let's just say the owner owed my dad a favor."  
  
"Tell your dad I am eternally grateful," Phil muttered, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "This is definitely what I needed."  
  
"And we aren't even inside the suite yet," Doug reminded.  
  
"I can only imagine," Phil spoke, his eyes sparkling with life.


	6. The Bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to what the Plaza Hotel suite looks like: http://www.theplaza.com/hotel/royal-plaza-suite

The double doors to the Royal Plaza Suite opened up, revealing the foursome stepping inside and marveling at every detail they set their eyes upon. They had just come off their private elevator which exited to an elevator foyer and through the double doors to a rectangular foyer, which led to a third, an oval foyer.

"Fuck me sideways, this is the shit!" Phil exclaimed joyfully. He dropped his suitcase in the center of the floor and immediately turned to his left where a hallway was. To the left of the hallway was the personal gym and to the right a small bathroom. "I haven't even seen everything in here yet and this is already better than the villa in Vegas."

Doug looked beyond impressed. He carried his suitcase past Phil into a second rectangular foyer, turning right into the dining room. "Oh, wow. This place is amazing."

Stu and Alan brought up the rear.

"Alan, everything bad I ever said about you I take back. You outdid yourself here," Stu commented, just as enthralled as the other two as he joined Doug in the dining room. "I feel like a king or president standing in here."

Doug nodded and met Stu's amazed look with a smile. "I know, right?"

Phil came walking by the dining room and headed into the living room, pointing to the grand piano in one corner. "Hey Stu, you can serenade us again at some point if you want," he teased. He went right up to the window to the left of the piano and looked out at the view below, which looked down at 5th Avenue. "Breathtaking," he mumbled. Turning around he pointed at Alan as if he was the winner in some game show. "You, my man, I cannot thank you enough. This is...beyond words."

"Anything for you Phil," Alan beamed, not registering the look from Phil that said he thought Alan's comment sounded gay.

Stu looked at his watch. "We should probably take a quick look around for now and pick our rooms so we can shower and change. I'm so hungry I could eat a moose."

"Alright, quick run around the place. I claim the master bedroom, wherever it is," Phil announced, heading back toward the oval foyer to get his bag.

"There's only three bedrooms. Can I bunk with you, Phil?" Alan asked with the innocence of a child.

Doug, who was heading toward the direction of the kitchen, stopped in his tracks and looked at his brother-in-law. "Alan, you can bunk with me. I don't think Phil wants to―"

"Sure, buddy. What the hell," came Phil's reply.

"Really, I can?" Alan appeared as if he had just won a million dollars. Or met a Jonas brother.

Stu doubled back from the direction of the foyer leading toward the other two bedrooms. He looked over at Phil with disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Phil shrugged. "Yeah, why not?"

"Wow," Doug laughed. "You really must be in a good mood then."

"I gotta sleep on the left side of the bed because the right side interferes with my inner feng shui." Alan walked with a skip in his step, following behind Phil, who turned around and slapped the portly man on the shoulders.

"As long as you keep your pants on and stay on whatever side you choose, I don't give a shit, Al."

 

* * *

 

Less than an hour later it was eight-thirty in the evening. Stu was sitting by the phone in the living room talking to the front desk asking if a car service was available and that they would need dinner reservations after all; if they could find a place to squeeze them in this late. He was too hungry and tired to be walking around Manhattan at this time of night looking for a place to eat.

"Lookin' dapper, Dr. Price," Doug complimented as he came from the direction of the two extra bedrooms. He was dressed in a pair of black dress slacks, a dark blue dress shirt and a black blazer. His leather dress shoes shined as they clacked along the marble floor.

"Thank you, Mr. Billings," Stu replied, looking briefly down at his own pair of black dress slacks, but with a white dress shirt, along with a black and gray striped tie. His face no longer contained the Tyson tattoo he'd gotten in Bangkok two years ago as he'd had it removed. Originally he considered keeping it but when Tyson, himself, demanded Stu get rid of it, that was the only reason he needed. One didn't mess with Mike Tyson.

Phil entered the living room next, looking like the tall drink of water he always was, dressed more similarly to Stu, except for his dress shirt being a the palest shade of blue. His hair was still a bit wet from his shower and curled at the ends, and he hadn't bothered to shave so he had a few days' worth of stubble on his face. Clapping his hands together, he walked toward the center of the room. "I'm thinking that agreeing to share a room with Alan might not have been the best idea."

"Gee, ya think?" Stu asked rhetorically.

"It means sharing the same bathroom and I just got to see everything south of the border again while I was brushing my teeth." Phil inadvertantly shivered as Doug laughed at him. Phil shook it off just as Alan entered the living room, dressed in khaki-coloured dress pants, a dark blue blazer, similar to Doug's in style, but added his personal touch to his outfit by wearing an army green-colored T-shirt that had a cartoon chicken on it with a conversation bubble above it saying, "moo."

"Hey guys, there's a water fountain in the bathroom next to the toilet. How cool is that?"

Stu instantly made a face of nausea. "Alan, that's not a water fountain. That's a bidet."

Off Alan's confused look, Phil added, "It squirts water up your ass to clean it after taking a shit."

"Oh." Alan suddenly looked perplexed and a little unsure of himself.

"Alan, did you drink from the bidet?" Doug asked.

"No," Alan replied defensively, which meant he clearly did drink from the bidet.

"Alright," Phil straightened out the collar of his dress shirt and looked at Stu. "Was the front desk able to get us reservations somewhere?"

"Yup," Stu nodded. "Apparently a lot of restaurants have tables held on behalf of hotels for VIP guests and we're VIPs this weekend."

"Awesome."

"They're having a car pulled around for us, too."

"Also awesome." Phil grinned. "Okay, boys. Let's hit this town."

 

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes later the guys were being ushered to their seats at some posh restaurant not all that far from the hotel. They took their seats and were handed wine lists before giving the waiter their orders. They began talking happily about this and that; where they would go after dinner, what they would do and see on Saturday and Sunday. After their drink and meal orders were placed, Stu had to set down the rules again for Alan, to make sure he didn't slip them anything that would end up causing another blackout and ruin the weekend. Alan promised he had no plans like that, that he wanted to remember the fun as much as the others.

Their meals had arrived not too long after their drinks. They were halfway through eating and on their second glasses of their alcoholic drinks of choice when a group of ladies from a nearby table got a little louder with a sudden burst of laughter. Stu turned his attention toward them and narrowed his eyes through his glasses. His eyes widening in disbelief, a small smirk crept onto his face.

"What's the matter, Stu?" Phil asked, rinsing down a bit of food with his glass of red wine.

"It's Sam."

"Sam?" Phil's brow creased, turning in his seat to look in the direction Stu was looking. "Sam, as in your hygienist?"

"Yeah." Without another word, Stu got up and placed his napkin on the table. "I'll be right back. I'm just going to say hi." He then walked over to the table Sam was sitting at. The other girls looked up at him as he approached and when he tapped Sam on the shoulder, she turned to look up at him.

At first she didn't register who it was, but a second later, her eyes went wide and she smiled, standing up as well to give him a half hug. "Oh my god, Stu. What the hell are you doing here?"

Stu smirked, gesturing back toward his table. "Last minute getaway for Phil. We're having a divorce party for him. Our friend Doug's brother-in-law treated us all."

"That's awesome. But what about the practice?"

"I told Susan I had to go away for a few days for a funeral, so, uh...when we get back on Tuesday, don't mention seeing me here," he laughed a little nervously.

"Samantha, who is this?" a blonde, who looked a little like Sam, though younger, asked.

"This is my boss, Dr. Stuart Price. Stu, this is my sister Amanda, the bride-to-be, and her bridesmaids."

Stu leaned forward to shake Amanda's hand. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," Amanda replied, turning her attention back to her friends.

Sam looked at Stu and discreetly rolled her eyes. "This has been pure torture for me," she quietly spoke to her boss with a strained smile. "I have nothing in common with any of them, including my own sister and to top it off I am the only single one here and the conversation keeps swinging back to that fact. Help me?" she pleaded jokingly.

Stu felt bad. She'd mentioned before about how she loved her family but just wasn't close to them at all because she had never lived up to her parents' expectations of becoming a doctor and lived on the other side of the country. "You wanna come join us? I mean, I don't wanna take you away from the bachelorette party." After a beat, "This is a bachelorette party, right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, dinner first and then we're all supposed to go to a strip club and some dancing or something. I don't know. Amanda's best friend planned it all."

Gesturing toward his table. "Can you skate away from your table for a bit? The guys won't mind if you joined us."

"That would be great. But only as long as the guys don't mind."

"Nah, they'll be cool with it."

Sam touched Amanda's shoulder briefly, letting her know she was going to sit with Stu and his friends for a little bit but would be back. She then trailed behind Stu with her purse over her shoulder and her wine glass in hand. Phil looked up when she approached with a smile.

"Sam. Long time, no see."

"Same to you, Phil. Hey Doug," she nodded her greeting to the shorter guy across the table from where she was standing.

"Hey, Samantha. So, you're in town for your sister's wedding?"

Sam nodded as Phil stood up and pulled out the extra chair between him and Doug. "Sit down," he offered.

"Thanks."

As soon as she was sitting, she took another sip of her wine and caught the eye of Alan.

"Who are you?" he demanded, curious about the intrusion on the wolf pack dinner.

"Alan, this is Samantha, she works for Stu," Doug introduced. "She's cool, don't worry."

Sam smiled. "You can just call me Sam."

"I'm fine with Samantha." Alan was still unsure.

"Let's make a toast," Phil announced, changing the subject. He looked around at his two best friends, Alan and then Sam before raising his wine glass slightly. The others did the same. "Here's to my wife cheating on me and leaving me with nothing except child support payments. And to my friends who have been there since the beginning, and who I have the most fun with. And to my newfound free―"

Before he could finish that sentence, he was cut off by Alan, who was holding a paper napkin with some writing scrawled on it. "Phillip Wenneck," he began, causing Phil to look across the table at him; not pissed off, but slightly annoyed. He should've expected it, though. This was Alan after all. "He is a man who is handsome and loyal and my favorite part of our wolf pack." Alan looked up from the napkin and over to Doug, then to Stu. "No offense, guys."

"It's okay," Stu assured.

"None taken," Doug said, giving his brother-in-law a smirk.

Alan looked down at the napkin, over to Doug again, then back to the napkin to continue. "New York City is the city that never sleeps and now that you are no longer married, Phil, you can sleep your way through the city if you want without being a cheater like your whore ex-wife." He flipped the napkin over and continued on the other side. Stu looked over at Phil for a reaction. Phil simply brought his wine glass back to his lips, watching Alan over the rim. "Unless whoever it is you sleep with happens to be married. But even then you wouldn't be a cheater, but more of an accessory to adultery."

"Alan," came Doug's voice.

"Sorry," Alan frowned, looking up apologetically to Phil. "I get carried away sometimes."

Phil set his glass down and waved it off. "It's okay, buddy."

Alan smiled at Phil for calling him buddy and went back to his napkin. "We became a pack of four wolves back in the desert of Las Vegas four years ago, then much to my initial displeasure, we...we temporarily became a five-pack when Teddy joined us in Thailand and lost his finger and Stu had sex with that—" as he rattled on, mispronouncing Thailand again, both Doug and Stu cut him off at the same time.

"Alan!"

Crumpling up the napkin, he placed it beside his plate and eyed Doug, to his left, then briefly Stu on his right. They all just looked back at him. He frowned and huffed a little before casting his eyes over to Sam who was sitting between Doug and Phil, pointing at her for a moment before dropping his hands to his lap. "While I don't think it's cool that this lady has joined us for a drink without asking me first if it's okay, I guess a wolf pack can't grow without a bitch involved." He shrugged, unprepared for the onslaught of exclamations from around the table, everyone speaking at once.

Stu turned and snapped at him, "Alan!"

Doug with a, "Hey, not cool!"

Phil simply furrowed his brow, almost stone-faced. "Whoa! Uncalled for."

"What the fuck, man?" Sam pulled her wine glass closer to her, not knowing why she was being called a bitch all of a sudden. She didn't even know this guy. Where did he get off calling her a bitch?

Alan looked confused. He had no idea why everyone got so mad. "What? A bitch is a female wolf," he explained. "You can't make more wolves without a male and a female. Didn't you learn about the birds and the bees?"

"I think you should wrap this up, Alan." Doug leaned over and placed his hand on Alan's shoulder.

"Let's just finish this toast already," Phil commented, holding his glass back up. The others brought theirs closer to the middle of the table so they could all clink glasses together.

"To friendship," Stu offered up.

That seemed good enough to them. The glasses clinked and they brought the glasses to their lips to down a sip, or gulp. Phil looked over at Sam briefly who met his look with a smile. He brought his glass over to hers, confusing her for a moment.

"To new friends," he said.

Sam smirked and gave him a nod. "To new friends," she repeated. Everyone overheard the duo and clinked their glasses together again after Phil and Sam clinked theirs together. "And to my sister getting married before me," she added with a chuckle and strained smile.

"To the Jonas Brothers who are playing Madison Square Garden tomorrow!" Alan cheered, getting in on the further toasting. He held his glass up again, but no one was up for that one. They just let out a laugh, smiled and drank away.


	7. Third Time's A Charm

**14 HOURS LATER (SATURDAY)**  
  
In the master bedroom of the Royal Plaza Suite, the late morning sun was filtering in through the windows without any inhibition due to the curtains being wide open. As the sun moved across the sky, it found a way to shine at an angle into the bedroom in such a way that a hefty stream of light fell upon Phil's face as he lay on his back on the floor. His head was propped up by the bedside table, which looked incredibly uncomfortable. As he stirred awake, he frowned, his eyes closed. Slowly a throbbing sensation began to pound in his head bringing him closer to full consciousness. What did the trick, however, was someone's hand hitting him in the face.  
  
"Whatthefuck," he mumbled, blinking a few times to adjust to the light in his eyes.  
  
He brought his own hand up to push away whoever's was in his face. When he focused on the fingers of said hand, he noticed they were thin and delicate, and manicured with pink nail polish on them. Raising an eyebrow, Phil sat up a little to get a better view at just who was in his bed while wondering why he was on the floor. Reaching out, he touched the hand again but this time it jerked away back onto the bed and the movement was followed by a feminine groan.  
  
While trying to remember where he was, Phil peered closer at the woman in the bed and noticed tufts of auburn locks covering her face. A yawn escaping his lips and his head really starting to pound, he brought his hand to the woman's hair and pushed some strands aside, already assuming who it was. "Sam?" he called her name.  
  
Slowly, as if far away, the sound of Phil's voice found its way into her eardrums. Sam's tired green eyes warily opened as she found herself staring across at Phil whose head was peeking over the edge of the bed at her. Her eyes immediately widened as she groaned again, in pain from her own increasing headache, while rolling onto her back.  
  
"Ugh, it feels like a death metal concert in my head," she commented, bringing her right hand to her forehead and holding it there.  
  
"Ditto," came Phil's reply, leaning against the bedside table. "What are you doing in my hotel room?" He had finally recognized where he was, but not why he was on the floor or why Sam was in the bed.  
  
"I don't know. Sleeping?"  
  
Off her smartass remark, he added, "Well, that much is obvious."  
  
At that moment, Sam reached her right arm out to stretch at her side when she hit something hard and soft at the same time. The sound of Alan's voice exclaiming, "Ow!" registered in both Phil and Sam's ears. Phil immediately stood up and Sam sat up, looking to her right at the sight of Alan under the covers on the bed beside her. As far as they both could tell, only his shirt was missing.  
  
Phil looked down at Sam, noticing she was wearing his pale blue dress shirt from the night before. He was about to say something when Alan awoke in a bit of a fog; possibly not even realizing anyone else was there.  
  
"Whoa, Alan...your beard," Phil chuckled, pointing.  
  
Alan sat up slowly and touched his hands to his chin, which was void of any facial hair. All that remained was his mustache. Frowning in confusion, he casually pushed the covers off him and hopped out of bed, sauntering sleepily over toward the walk-in closet which led through to the bathroom. Completely butt naked.  
  
Sam let out a small yelp and turned away, ready to throw up as Phil shielded his eyes from the sight. "Omigod," Sam whined.  
  
"Alan, man...put some pants on for the love of God."  
  
Alan turned back to look at Sam and Phil as if still in a dream, then down at himself. "Oh, am I naked?" He then continued onward into the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door behind him.  
  
Sam looked down at herself under the sheets at that moment and grimaced.  
  
"What's wrong?" Phil asked.  
  
Hesitating, she replied with, "My underwear is missing."  
  
After only a few seconds, Phil immediately started to laugh. "Wow. I think you might've fucked Alan last night," he teased. "I find that hysterical and disturbing at the same time. But I'm also confused because that's my shirt you're wearing."  
  
Sam picked at the shirt, considering the predicament she was in. She sat up against the pillows and headboard behind her, making sure the sheets and blanket didn't slip off her lower half.  
  
"I've got a cut and some stitches across my chest," came Alan's voice as he reentered the bedroom, still naked. He was holding his hand to the wound that appeared to have in the center of his chest.  
  
"Alan, clothes." Phil turned his head, as did Sam, neither wanting to see Alan's nethers swinging in the breeze.  
  
"I don't know where they are. I can't even find my jockstrap."  
  
Sam caught Phil's eye, mentally asking him why Alan would have a jockstrap.  
  
"Wrap a towel around your waist then," Phil spoke, not ready to look in the other man's direction. He focused more toward Sam as Alan disappeared back into the bathroom. He looked down at himself, noting he was only in his boxer briefs. Finding his pants on the floor near the end of the bed, he picked them up and tossed them over to Sam. "Here. Until you can find your clothes."  
  
Sam took them with an appreciative smile. "Thanks." She pulled them under the covers and then covertly pulled them on.  
  
Phil walked over to a mirror and looked at his reflection, seeing a large bruise around his left eye. He touched it gingerly, wincing at how sensitive it felt. "What the fuck happened last night?" he wondered aloud, watching as Sam, wearing both his dress shirt and pants, slid out of the bed and wandered over toward the mirror as well.  
  
She ran both hands through her tossled hair and just held them on either side of her head for a moment before letting out a yawn and staring at his reflection. "Oh god, did someone punch you?"  
  
Looking at her, he pointed at her reflection. "Probably whoever punched you."  
  
She studied her face, finally noticing the purplish bruise that was on the left side of her jaw. "What the hell?"  
  
Alan walked back out into the room with a large towel wrapped around his body, covering the his lower half and even his nipples like a woman would when coming out of the shower. He looked considerably perplexed. "Where are my clothes? I can't find my suitcase either," he muttered, walking out of the bedroom and into one of the foyers.  
  
Phil and Sam looked at each other and followed after the portly man. "We should find the guys," Phil remarked. "I'm having trouble remembering anything that happened last night."  
  
"Same here."  
  
As they walked from foyer to foyer, they rounded a corner to the left and were met by a humorous sight in the dining room: Stu asleep on the table, with his ass in the air and wearing only white briefs and a pair of white socks that had seen better days. There was an ample amount of drool underneath his jaw as he snored lightly away. Alan had already migrated into the living room, looking around the couches and chairs.  
  
When Phil took in the sight of the suite, his eyes went wide and he brought a hand to his mouth. "Fuck me."  
  
The entire place looked like a bomb had gone off, only to be followed by a tornado. Three of the twelve dining room chairs were smashed to bits, the flatscreen TV in the living room was hanging off the wall and cracked, liquor bottles and beer cans were strewn all over the floor and pieces of furniture. There were a few dozen dildos somehow stuck to the wall near the grand piano, a pyramid of cards still intact on the coffee table, a large stuffed bear missing its head, which was in the dining room, underneath the table and covered in red paint. The cushions to one of the couches was ripped to shreds and this was all just the obvious stuff, and not the smaller details, in just those two rooms. They could only imagine what the rest of the place looked like.  
  
"Hey, look. My jockstrap." Phil and Sam turned their gazes toward Alan who got up on the coffee table, thereby knocking down all the cards, in order to pull his jockstrap off the chandelier above his head. The second he was down off the table, the chandelier creaked and swayed. It was hanging by the fixture's wires, probably not long away from falling should the wires decide to snap.  
  
Sam made a face and turned her face downward at other couch that wasn't ripped to shreads, but was instead covered in what looked to be smudged streaks of ketchup and mustard. She made another face and walked back over toward the dining room where Phil was walking up to a sleeping Stu, slapping the man on the shoulder.  
  
"Stu, man, wake up. We have a problem."  
  
The sudden slap to his arm caused Stu to jolt awake. His head lifted a little and began to roll to his side only to slip and fall off the table with a heavy thud. _"Ungh!"_ he grunted in pain. "Where am I?" He lifted his head while struggling to pull himself up off the floor and let out a quick yelp when he saw the large teddy bear head doused in red paint, thinking it to be blood for a moment. He touched his hand to the paint to feel it. It was tacky, and clearly not blood. "What the fuck happened last night, Phil?"  
  
"Wow, there is glitter everywhere!" Sam exclaimed, stepping tiptoe across the floor, unsuccessful in trying to not get any glitter on the bottoms of her feet. "I've never seen so much in my life..."  
  
Phil was just in so much shock he had remained silent as he came up beside Sam, subconsciously lifting his hand to pull a curly piece of confetti from her tousled auburn locks. She turned and looked up at him just as Stu got to his feet and stumbled to the left a little from momentarily losing his balance.  
  
"Oh. Oh, god, no! Did it happen again? Am I missing teeth or have a face tattoo?" His hands went to his mouth and the side of his face. Off Phil's shaking head, Stu continued, "This wasn't supposed to happen again! We made promises to our wives we wouldn't get crazy!"  
  
"Well, technically, I never made that promise since I don't have a wife anymore," came Phil's smartass interjection. His face was deadpan as he said it and still a bit distracted by the confusion of another blackout and the destruction of the suite at hand.  
  
"Shut up!" Stu screeched, as he dropped balled up fists to his sides and his body jerked like a child about to throw a hissy fit. His bloodshot eyes, which mirrored everyone else's bloodshot eyes, immediately latched on to Alan who was apprehensively touching one of the dildos stuck to the wall. "Alan, what did you do?"  
  
Alan turned around. "I didn't do anything. I swear on Joe Jonas' immortal soul I didn't do it this time."  
  
Phil reached out to touch Stu's shoulder to chill him out. "Dude, I think Alan's serious. Joe is his favorite Jonas."  
  
"You remembered." Alan looked over at Phil, smiling and clearly touched, as Stu shook Phil's hand off.  
  
"Is Doug up yet?"  
  
"We all just woke up and came out here and found the place like this. Oddly enough my and Alan's room looked in pretty good shape." He then added about Doug, "I haven't seen him yet, but there are two other bedrooms because you were clearly here all night." Phil gestured to the table. "And apparently us three," he gestured to himself, Sam and Alan, "shared the same room."  
  
Stu finally took a moment to realize Sam was standing there. "Oh, hey. What are you doing here?"  
  
Sam shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself. "I know about as much as you do."  
  
"Blackout?" Off her nod, "Well, welcome to the club." He said it in a tone as if this was all commonplace. She had remembered him telling her once or twice that he and his friends tended to get a little crazy when they drank, but this was not what she had thought. As he stared at her some more, he narrowed his gaze, pointing to the pale blue shirt she was wearing. "Why are you wearing Phil's clothes?" His brow raised, almost about to chuckle. "Did the two of you have sex?"  
  
"No," Phil shook his head, though even he wasn't one hundred percent sure. "I think she had sex with Alan."  
  
Stu jerked his head back and grimaced. He was possibly fighting the urge to vomit from either his hangover or the visual of Alan having sex with anyone. "Ew."  
  
Sam looked defensively at Phil as he pulled out one of the remaining, nine intact dining chairs to sit down. "We haven't proven that yet."  
  
"You were both in bed; you sans underwear, him sans...well, everything." He made a limp hand gesture over at Alan, who was back to being quite intrigued by why the dildos were on the wall.  
  
"How did I get your shirt on then? Maybe I slept with _you_ ," Sam offered up, placing her hands on her hips.  
  
Phil met her gaze and leaning back, shrugging. "Maybe. _Or_ maybe you were naked from fucking Alan and your tits got cold afterward so you found my shirt and put it on."  
  
As the pair exchanged looks, Stu stepped between them and migrated toward the living room. "Oh my god, Alan. The Plaza is going to sue you, your father and probably us for this damage."  
  
"What happens in New York City, stays in New York City," Alan muttered.  
  
"Alan, that only applies to Vegas," Phil commented, running his hands over his face, still trying to wake up.  
  
"We should go wake Doug up, leave this place and check into a different hotel," Stu suggested.  
  
"Why?" Phil looked at his friend. "We have this place till Monday at noon. As long as we don't have any maid service or butler whatever come up here till after we're gone, we'll be okay. We can even clean as much of this up as we can by ourselves. Today we should just recouperate and figure out what crazy shit we did this time."  
  
"Well, we still need to get Doug up either way."  
  
Sam frowned. "If his head feels as bad as mine does right now, I say let him sleep."  
  
Stu looked at Sam, noticing her bruised jaw but saying nothing. "Still gotta look for him. We tend to misplace him or leave him behind when we blackout." He then took off down the foyer toward the two extra bedrooms.  
  
Sam looked at Phil, nudging his shoulder while trying not to let her eyes wander to his finely toned chest with the perfect amount of hair. A feeling of warmth flooded her face. She looked away the moment he looked up at her; his eyes wandering to her profile. "Let's look for your friend Doug and then I'll find my clothes so I can get out of here. My sister is getting married tomorrow and I have shit I am obligated to be part of as Maid of Honor."  
  
Phil obliged, standing up and following behind her as they made their way toward the oval foyer and beyond it to the personal gym. Stu had darted in an out of the two extra bedrooms by then, checking under the beds, the closets and dressing areas, the bathrooms, to no avail. Doug wasn't asleep in any of the rooms. He came out back toward the dining room, stumped. "Alan, have you seen Doug?" he called.  
  
Alan had taken the opportunity to put his jockstrap on when the others disappeared in search for Doug. He was now holding the towel draped over one arm and a dildo in his other hand. "No," he answered. "I wonder where we got all these fake penises from."  
  
Stu made a face and looked away. He didn't even care to know the why or how.  
  
"He's not in the gym or the powder room. We didn't notice him in our room and I'm sure Alan would've seen Doug in our bathroom the few times he was in there after we woke up," came Phil's voice.  
  
"Did you check the kitchen?" Stu questioned.  
  
"Not yet."  
  
"He wasn't in any of the extra rooms down there," the dentist gestured to his left. "I'll check the kitchen."  
  
As he staggered away, someone's cell phone began to ring from somewhere in the living room. Alan peered down at the tattered couch and dropped his hands between the cushions, pulling out a Blackberry. "Should I answer it?"  
  
"That's my sister's phone," Sam exclaimed, walking over to Alan.  
  
Stu didn't here anything else as he ducked into the kitchen and immediately stuck his foot into a bowl of cereal on the floor; what looked to be soggy Fruit Loops which had turned the milk a shade of pink. He looked down and saw something else in the bowl beside the cereal. Bending down after taking his foot out, he grabbed up the mysterious object, immediately scowling at himself. It was his cell phone and clearly now ruined from sitting in milk for God knows how long. "Fuck," he grumbled, padding further into the kitchen with his sock now soaked with pink milk. Grimacing, he looked around the kitchen. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary other than the bajillion of empty bottles and beer cans all over the counter, some food sitting out and Cool-Whip all over a few cupboards and on the stove. General post-party destruction.  
  
As he turned to head back out, something flapped from above his head and clamped sharply onto his shoulder and began to bite at his ear. He let out a girly scream and began to turn in circles, trying to swat off whatever was on him. All he saw was the occasional barrage of red at the side of his face. "Get it off! _Get it off_!"  
  
Phil and Sam came running into the kitchen with Alan bringing up the rear with his bare rear.  
  
"Ooh, a birdie!" Alan cooed, smiling in wonderment.  
  
"It's a scarlet macaw," Sam specified. She and Phil were wincing at how the macaw was pecking at Stu's ear. Some blood had been drawn, but only a little.  
  
"I don't care what it is, get it the fuck off me!" Stu shouted.  
  
Sam tried stepping closer to to get in the macaw's line of view while also trying to keep Stu from moving around so much. Sam made a succession of high pitched whistles with puckered lips and almost at once, the bird flew off of Stu's shoulder and over to Sam's arm she was outstretching. The macaw dropped onto her hand and began to step sideways up her arm to perch on her shoulder as if it had known her all its life.  
  
Phil just stood there amazed as Stu slumped to the ground against the fridge, holding his bleeding ear. Stepping around to stand in front of her, Phil looked at the bird and smiled. "How the hell did you do that?"  
  
"I had a military macaw when I was in high school."  
  
"Your bird was in the military? What happened to it?" Alan asked. He was inching closer to the macaw, wanting to touch it but wary as to whether or not it would peck at him like it did to Stu.  
  
Sam just gave Alan a look about his misunderstanding of how she meant military in describing the bird she'd had. "He got sick so we had to put him down."  
  
"Where? On the floor?"  
  
Sam and Phil both looked at Alan. "She means they had to put him to sleep," Phil tried clearing up. Alan really was just dumb sometimes.  
  
"Was he tired?"  
  
Stu had had it. "How stupid are you? Like, seriously? Putting an animal down or putting an animal to sleep means they euthanized it. They killed it."  
  
Alan looked as horrified as someone witnessing the destruction of the world. "You killed your birdie just 'cause he was sick and tired?" He pointed accusingly at Sam. "Omigod, you're a bird murderer."  
  
"I was right, a few years ago in Vegas," Stu looked up at Alan. "You really are too stupid to insult."  
  
"We have bigger problems than Alan's lack of comprehension, Stu," Phil commented, looking down at his friend then gesturing to Sam. "That phone that rang was Sam's sister Amanda's. It was their mom calling, wondering where Amanda was. She didn't come home last night. Sam gave a bullshit story about them crashing here in the city with some friends and were going to brunch together to buy herself some time."  
  
"Time for what?"  
  
"If none of us could find Doug in the suite, my sister isn't here either," Sam answered. "She must've been here last night at some point with us and left her phone behind. If she hasn't contacted my mother by now..."  
  
"Oh, fuck," Stu groaned, leaning his head back against the fridge. "What the fuck happened last night?" he wondered again, burying his face in his hands.  
  
"We could try calling Doug's phone," Alan suggested, finally bringing something useful to the table. "Last time in Bangkok he was fine and at the resort."  
  
Phil pointed at Alan, the gesture garnering a flutter of movement from the macaw. Phil retracted his hand, stared at the bird for a moment, then spoke. "That's a good point. This hotel has a pool somewhere. Maybe he went for a morning swim. Or maybe he ran out with your sister to get some coffee," he added, looking at Sam. "She probably knows the best place to get some decent coffee in the city and this place is in no shape to make any in that coffee maker." Phil pointed toward the sink. Beside it was the kitchen's coffee maker but inside the sink the coffee pot was smashed into many shards of glass.  
  
"Give him a call then," Stu muttered. The macaw flapped its wings briefly and peered down at Stu who flinched.  
  
Instinctively, Phil went to pat down his side to find his phone but he remembered he was only in his boxer briefs. Stepping closer to Sam he moved to stand behind her and put one hand each into the pockets of his pants she was wearing. She shuddered at the gesture, sensing his fingers upon her thighs as he tried to grab for wherever his phone was. She couldn't help herself but feel warmth reach her face again when she felt the tip of his nose touch upon the back of her neck for a brief second. As he slid his cell out of his right pocket, he stepped to the left of her and met her eyes as he dialed Doug's number.  
  
After a few rings, it picked up. "Hey, Doug, where are you, man?"  
  
 _"Phil?"_  
  
The voice wasn't Doug's. Phil frowned. "Tracy? What are you doing with Doug's phone?"  
  
 _"He forgot it at home yesterday morning. I think the more important question is why are you calling my husband, asking where he is? Shouldn't he be with you?"_  
  
Phil grimaced. "Uh..."  
  
 _"What happened last night?"_ Her tone toward Phil was that of exasperation.  
  
"Uh, nothing. Doug went out to get coffee for us but he's taking forever," he lied; the king of bullshitters.  
  
 _"Phil."_  
  
"Tracy."  
  
 _"Phil, if you have lost my husband again, I swear I will drop my child off at my parents' house and I will fly out to New York and rip your balls off. Okay?"_  
  
Phil was quiet for a moment, the visual making his stomach churn slightly. "Yup. Gotcha." As he hung up, he held the phone in his hand and looked at Stu, Sam, the macaw and Alan. "I think we fucked up again."  
  
"Third time's a charm," Alan smirked. The others looked at him, almost glaring. His smirked faded and turned into a frown. "Or not."


	8. All Is Not Lost

"You look like a pirate."  
  
Sam looked up from the purse on her lap to find Alan, still only in his jockstrap, staring back at her as if studying a painting at an art museum. On her shoulder, the scarlet macaw remained perched. It hadn't left her since the kitchen incident. She raised an eyebrow at Alan and then looked back down into the purse, digging through the bottomless pit that it was. She pulled out a wallet, a brush, a small makeup pouch, keys, an opened package of Orbit spearmint gum, a napkin with a phone number written on it...  
  
...and the insignia from the club on one corner of the napkin!  
  
"Jackpot!" Sam announced from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed in one of the two extra bedrooms that Doug was supposed to be using.  
  
Footsteps echoed in the foyer outside the bedroom, with Phil appearing seconds later in the open doorway. He glanced over at Alan who was standing near the window, taking turns from looking at the scenery below to looking over at the macaw on Sam's shoulder. She was holding up the napkin for Phil to see. He furrowed his brow and shrugged.  
  
"It's some guy's name with a phone number," he remarked with a shrug.  
  
Sam shook the napkin. "Not the number. The symbol." She pointed to the insignia with her free hand. "It's the name of a club we might've been at last night. We should try going back there and seeing if a bartender or someone remembers seeing us and if my sister and Doug left with us and, if so, what time that was at."  
  
"I called downstairs to the front desk," came Stu's voice a mere second before he walked into the bedroom behind Phil. His ear had stopped bleeding but there was dried blood all on it. He had also since found some clean clothes from his suitcase to put on; settling on a pair of gray, cotton khakis and a blue, button-up, short-sleeved cotton shirt. "I described what Doug and your sister looked like. Well, as best as I can remember what she looked like from last night. I asked if they remember what time we came in this morning and if Doug and Amanda were with us."  
  
Phil turned and looked at Stu. "And? What'd they say?"  
  
"It was a new desk clerk on shift. She started at eight and doesn't remember us, but we could ask to see the security footage."  
  
Sam, Stu and Phil all took turns looking at each other.  
  
"What are we waiting for?" Sam asked, standing up and leaving the purse on the bed.  
  
"Don't you wanna bring your purse?" Phil asked.  
  
"It's not mine. It's my sister's. I couldn't find mine."  
  
"Alan, you're gonna need to put some clothes on," Stu said.  
  
"I don't have any. This is all I could find, remember?" Alan pointed to his jockstrap. "My suitcase is missing."  
  
Stu sighed and threw his hands up in the air before dropping them down against his legs. "Come on, Al. We'll see if there's anything of mine you can fit into."  
  
Alan looked at Stu and smiled. "That's awfully generous of you, Stu." He walked over to the dentist, letting himself be ushered out of the room toward the second extra bedroom. His bare ass followed as well, leaving Phil and Sam with the unfortunate sight.  
  
Phil looked down at his feet, cocking his head to one side when he spotted some sort of pink material sticking out from underneath the bed by Sam's feet. "What's that?" he asked, not necessarily expecting an answer as he took a few steps closer and crouched down. He stretched his arm out and grabbed onto the material, pulling it out. "It's a dress."  
  
Sam gazed down at it. "That's what Amanda was wearing last night."  
  
"Alright, so your sister is somewhere without her purse, phone and clothes? Maybe she got picked up by some cops for public nudity," he suggested with a smirk, handing the dress up to Sam before pushing himself back up to his feet.  
  
"That's so funny," Sam snickered sarcastically. "I guess I can wear this until I find my own clothes and then you can have yours back."  
  
Phil just looked at her. A blur of something flickered in his mind's eye. He couldn't figure out what it was; if it was a memory, a flashback or just a random thought. It felt as if he was seeing that dress on her already. But it was...what? He couldn't remember anything else, if it was a memory at all. He scrunched up his face and turned to look at the door. "I'll, uh...be in the living room. I'll leave you to change in here."  
  
Sam nodded. Phil shut the bedroom door behind him as she looked at the macaw still on her shoulder.  
  
"You have to get down so I can change, you know?" She smirked and held her free hand out, clicking her tongue to the roof of her mouth. The macaw inched down to her hand and she walked over to a chair in the room so it could perch on the back of it. "Good boy," she cooed.  
  


* * *

  
The four of them—Stu, Phil, Alan and Sam—all stood in the private elevator for their suite, headed down to the first level of the hotel. Phil had taken his shirt and pants back from Sam but decided not to wear them again. Like Stu, he changed into something clean; a pair of white chinos and a gray V-neck T-shirt. Both were thin material and cool since it was summer in the city after all. It might not be Los Angeles hot out there, but any place in the US during the summer could be sweltering. The sun was shining outside and there didn't seem to be a cloud anywhere in sight from what he could tell by looking out the windows.  
  
As he leaned against the back of the elevator, Phil couldn't help himself in staring briefly at Sam's backside in the pink dress of her sister's she was wearing. It was a little tight on her, which meant it hugged every curve like a second skin. Phil couldn't even remember what her sister looked like except that she was blonde. While waiting for the elevator to open they had already discussed and agreed that the last thing any of them remembered was Sam sitting with them at their table at the restaurant and eventually Amanda and her bridesmaids joined them. A waiter had told them it was okay to put both tables together. That was about nine-thirty or ten the night before.  
  
Phil had one arm crossed over his chest and the other propped up so that he could pick at his thumb nail with his teeth as he continued to steal glances at Sam's ass. During this, he felt Stu nudge him and they locked eyes. Stu gave him a knowing, chastising look to which Phil simply frowned and found a spot on the wall above Sam's head to occupy him till they reached the ground floor.  
  
"So where do you think the bird came from?" Alan wondered. He was wearing Stu's red swim trunks he had brought just in case they decided to take a swim in a hotel pool at some point. He also wore a plain, green T-shirt of Stu's which didn't fit quite well as his stomach hung out from underneath it. Not to mention it looked like his arms were suffocating. However, Alan didn't seem to mind. His hands were propped on his hips and he was staring up at the floor numbers as they lit up in reverse order.  
  
"We probably stole it from someone rich and powerful, possibly a drug lord," Stu answered nonchalantly.  
  
"Is that another thing you guys do?" Sam asked, turning to look back at her boss.  
  
"Steal animals?" Off Sam's nod, he continued. "In Vegas it was Mike Tyson's tiger. In Bangkok it was a Russian's drug dealing monkey."  
  
Sam raised her brow and smirked. After another moment, she let out a laugh. Her laugh was one of those hearty, infectous types. It made Alan look at her and start to smile and laugh a bit as well. Phil and Stu looked at each other and then also began to laugh.  
  
"Who knew Dr. Price was such a wild child?" Sam teased.  
  
"He's got a demon in him," Alan offered up.  
  
"It's true. I do," Stu concurred.  
  
Phil smirked and dropped both his arms to shove his hands in his pockets just as the elevator stopped and the doors opened up with a ding sound. Alan filed out first, followed by Stu as Phil walked behind Sam, looking down at the area of her skin where her neck met her shoulder. He could almost imagine what her skin smelled like. He blinked, and wondered where those thoughts were coming from. Not just in the sense that, yes, he was no longer bound to any woman, legally or otherwise, but in the sense that she was this odd beauty who seemed to hold her own with the guys and seemed to be able to keep her shit together while a normal person might've freaked out with waking up after a blackout to find a hotel suite trashed, their sister missing the day before her wedding and tropical bird attacking their boss in his underwear. And there was that possibility they might've had sex the night before. But it was just a possibility.  
  


* * *

  
  
"That's us!" Stu exclaimed happily, pointing at the small black and white screen in front of them.  
  
They were standing in the security office. One of the guards, a heavyset black man named Anthony, had gone backwards in their tapes from a half hour prior to them all entering the office until they found the footage they wanted; footage from the security camera that was aimed at the ground level private elevator they had just stepped off minutes before. On the screen, the timestamp stated it was 6:07 AM. Stu was shown walking ahead of everyone else, moving his arms around as if conducting an invisible orchestra, followed by Alan, who was wearing his pants but no shirt, ascot or blazer and was giving Sam's sister Amanda a piggyback.  
  
"There. Amanda was with us when we got in this morning. And that explains why I can't find my dress," Sam spoke. "She's wearing the dress I was wearing last night." On the screen Amanda had her arms around Alan's neck and her legs around his waist leaning back slightly in a dark dress that hung shapelessly on her.  
  
Alan chuckled at the sight. "I do give great piggyback rides. Ask anyone."  
  
Phil just shook his head and grinned a little until the next people entered on screen. "Hello there," he muttered, folding his arms and staring in, not necessarily disbelief, but surprise, maybe?  
  
The footage showed Phil walking backward, peeling off the blazer he was wearing while struggling not to break a frenzied liplock he had going on with Sam.  
  
Sam's eyes widened. She turned her face from the small screen and met Phil's gaze which bordered between sheepish and amused. Her cheeks were turning a deep shade of pink, deciding to look away from him. Normally she didn't mind public displays of affection where herself was concerned, but this was Phil, her boss' hot best friend she had a bit of a crush on. She had never planned on verbally admitting that, but there they were, about six hours before, kissing and groping each other like their lives depended on it.  
  
Alan turned and looked at the pair, sniggering. "You two were caught making out." Then he grew serious. "You probably had sex, too."  
  
Phil straightened up, folding his arms across his chest. "Then how come you were naked in the bed with her?" he asked defensively, ignoring Anthony the security guard's curious gaze.  
  
"You said I could bunk with you," Alan replied. "And I lost my clothes."  
  
Sam gestured toward the screen. "He was missing his shirt and blazer when we got back this morning. Sometime between then and when we woke up, he lost his pants and his jockstrap ended up on the chandelier."  
  
"What kinda freaky shit you people be doin' up in that suite?" Anthony questioned, looking at all four of them like they were exhibitionists of some sort.  
  
"We live an alternati―" Alan began but was cut off by Stu who was still focused on the screen.  
  
"There's no Doug," he muttered. "Doug wasn't with us when we got back." He then looked back at the others. "You know, one of these days we're gonna have to handcuff him to one of us so we don't forget him amidst these fucking shenanigans of ours."  
  
It was hard to tell if Stu was trying to make light of the situation or about to freak out again. Phil placed his hand on Stu's back for reassurance either way.  
  
"It's okay. We always find Doug or he calls us. We just gotta backtrack, look at all the clues we have. When I was changing, I found a receipt in my back pants pocket from a liquor store in Harlem from about ten-thirty last night. Apparently I spent five hundred fucking dollars, but that's a clue."  
  
"You spent five hundred dollars?" Stu questioned.  
  
"Explains all the empty bottles and cans upstairs," Sam remarked.  
  
Phil gestured to her for the input she offered. "Do I like that I spent that much money? Fuck no. Do I like that it's a clue? Fuck yeah." He then looked at Sam. "And Sam found a napkin from some club in her purse. It has the club's name, and there's some guy's name and number."  
  
"It's Amanda's purse, actually."  
  
"Whatever. I'm saying we have something to go on," he spoke. "All is not lost."  
  
Stu stared at Phil for a moment, then let out a sigh. "Fine. Let's try the liquor store first. That seems about the time frame of where we might have gone after the restaurant."  
  
"See?" Phil smiled. "That's more like it." He looked at Anthony and offered his hand in a shake. "Thanks, man. If you find anything else on that footage, would you mind giving us a call?"  
  
"What am I? Your fuckin' butler?"  
  
Phil's smile fell. "No, I just thought that it would be a kind gesture for your fellow man," Phil snipped a little.  
  
"I'll kiss you if you let us know if you see anything else on the footage," Sam offered, smiling sweetly, surprising Phil and Stu. And Anthony.  
  
Anthony looked at her, considered and then shrugged. A sheepish smirk began to toy at the corners of his mouth. Smacking his lips, he looked away then back up at her. "I always did have that soft spot for you white women." He paused. "A'ight. I tell ya what: I get a kiss, and I'll comb through the footage as far back as I can. And if I see anything from when you first left the hotel till when you came back, I'll call ya."  
  
Phil's eyes were on Sam as she hesitated for a moment. "Go on, work those feminine wiles," he urged. And some part of him felt jealous. He had visual evidence of kissing her, but no mental recollection of it. He wondered if it had been nice. Amazing, even. Maybe it sucked but he was so in the drunken moment he didn't give two shits.  
  
Sam took a step closer and leaned forward, placing a hand on each of the arm rests to Anthony's chair. She continued her smirk as she leaned even closer and pressed her lips gingerly to Anthony's. As she kissed him, Alan stood back, watching her again like he was studying a painting. Stu raised his eyebrows, feeling as if he was a voyeur or something, while Phil simply felt that small pang of jealousy.  
  
As Anthony began to reach his hand around to cup Sam's ass, Phil stepped in. He could see Sam's eyes open in surprise so he grabbed Anthony's hand away and pulled Sam off. "Alright, you got your kiss. No need for grab-hands."  
  
"Sorry, but your girl offered the kiss. I can't be held responsible for my reactions," Anthony laughed.  
  
"She's not my girl," Phil insisted.  
  
Sam looked at him; a look he couldn't decipher. She stepped back and stood beside Alan as Stu moved toward a desk and grabbed a Post-It and a pen. He leaned forward to write something down before handing it to Anthony. "Here's Phil's cell number," he pointed over his shoulder at Phil with the pen. "Call it if and when you find anything, please."  
  
"Why you not givin' me your own number?"  
  
"I found my phone in a bowl of cereal this morning."  
  
Anthony smacked his lips again and laughed out loud. "Stupid."  
  
Stu just nodded. "Okay, then." He looked at his friends. "Let's go."  
  
As they filed out of the security office, the door shut heavily behind them, Anthony still laughing. The four looked at each other for a moment before Phil spoke up, taking the role of leader in this mess once again. "Alright. First thing's first. Sam, you wanna go back upstairs and grab your sister's purse and cell phone? We'll need that napkin and the extra phone in case someone calls and knows where your sister is or if we need to use it." He then gestured to Stu, Alan and himself. "We'll wait down here in the lobby for you. You have a card key?"  
  
Sam shook her head. "Why would I have a card key? Not my hotel suite, remember?"  
  
"Oh yeah," Phil replied. For a moment he had forgotten her being in New York was for an entirely different situation. He patted his pants, but had nothing. "Shit. Stu? Do you have a card key with you?"  
  
Stu rolled his eyes and pulled his card key out of his pocket. "Don't lose it."  
  
Phil took the key and looked to Sam. "Tell you what, I'll come with you. You get your sister's shit and I'll look for our card keys. We'll meet back down here in a few minutes, then grab a cab to that liquor store." Even though he was mainly looking at Sam, the last sentence was directed at Alan and Stu as well.  
  
Sam began to head back toward their private elevator and pressed the up button as Phil followed after her; the other two guys disappeared toward the direction of the main lobby, muttering back and forth about something that garnered a disgusted look from Stu. Once the elevator doors opened, Sam and Phil stepped inside, with him pressing the button for the floor their suite was on.  
  
"So," he spoke after a moment. "That was some kiss we had a few hours ago, hmm?" He was smirking, his arms once again folded across his chest.  
  
Sam looked up at him and he met the look, still smirking. "Looks like we enjoyed it."  
  
"Yep." Phil turned his head to look in front of him. A part of him wanted to just kiss her there, to see what it would be like, but the other part was a gentleman and wasn't about to risk a possible slap to the face.  
  
Sam looked forward as well. "Too bad we can't _remember_ if we enjoyed it or not."  
  
As she grinned, Phil brought his eyes back to her, staring at her profile, the urge in him growing stronger. It was an awful fight within him. He didn't know if it was his divorce signing two days prior that sparked the renewed spirit in him to feel openly attracted to another woman or that in some way he wanted to stick it to Stephanie as if showing her he could move on too. Either way, he felt conflicted.  
  
"What if I kissed you right now?"  
  
Sam shrugged, avoiding eye contact with him. "We'd find out if we enjoy kissing each other or not."  
  
Phil took a step closer to her and turned his body more to face her. He saw the way her cheeks began to redden and it amused him. It was her tell that she was intrigued by the notion. Slowly, he placed his left hand on the wall behind her and his other hand fell to her waist. He peered down her face and she still didn't look up at him. She merely bit her lips together and maintained a steady breathing rhythm.  
  
Gradually his face neared hers, but instead of going in for the direct approach, he turned his face so that his nose brushed her jawline and then brought the side of his mouth against the side of hers until her lips began to part and she began to turn her face toward his.  
  
Their lips were a feather's distance apart, about to make full on contact when the elevator lurched to a stop and the doors slid open with the ding sound. This snapped them out of the moment, thereby ruining it. They turned to look at the doors and moved apart from one another, gathering themselves before exiting the elevator and pretending nothing had almost happened.


	9. On The 2

As the yellow cab wove through Saturday afternoon traffic, heading north toward Harlem, Alan was once again made to sit up front with the driver, just as he had been when they'd been on their way to the hotel the day before. Only this time, Doug was missing and Sam was there in his place. While Alan made small talk with the driver, Stu was combing through his wallet as was Phil, who was also checking his phone. Sam, situated between the two, leaned closer to Stu as he suddenly pulled a strip of four photobooth photos out of his wallet from behind several twenty dollar bills.  
  
Stu smirked, passing the photobooth pictures to Sam, who looked at them with embarassment. The first photo was a typical pile-everyone-into-the-photobooth-and-make-stupid-faces shot. The second photo had Alan being pushed out of the booth by Amanda and Stu, both of whom seemed angry at him for something. The third photo had someone's hand grabbing Doug by the collar, yanking him out of the booth while Stu was trying to yank him back. In each of the first two photos, Sam and Phil were in the background, smiling drunkenly for the camera, beer bottles in their hands. The third one, though, had them looking toward each other. The fourth photo is what caused color to flood Sam's cheeks. It was a shot of Stu seemingly jumping out of the photobooth to tackle whoever had pulled Doug out while Amanda cheered him on. And in the background, Sam and Phil's beer bottles had been somehow discarded as Phil had his face buried in the crook of her neck, either kissing, smelling or sucking on her neck. What exactly he was doing wasn't clear because her hair had fallen partially over his face.  
  
"What's that?" Phil wondered, looking up from his cell to glance quickly at the strip of photos in Sam's hand. She didn't respond with words and just handed it to him.  
  
"My favorite's the fourth one," Stu teased, nudging Sam's side.  
  
"I agree," Phil commented. He had only looked briefly at the photos and passed them back to Stu, his arm stretching out in front of Sam. "You look very aerodynamic in it, Stu." As Stu took the photostrip from Phil, Phil caught Sam's eye but said nothing further in regard to what he'd seen or even in regard to what almost happened in the elevator earlier. He looked back down at his phone. "I got one text message from Alan at 2:46 AM."  
  
"What did I text?" Alan asked from the front seat upon hearing his name.  
  
" _Congrats_ ," Phil read.  
  
"Congrats?" Sam repeated. "What for?"  
  
Phil shrugged. "How should I know?" Off Sam's eyeroll, he looked over at Stu. "Did you find anything else in your wallet?"  
  
"Just a gum wrapper and a lot of twenty dollar bills that weren't there prior to dinner last night."  
  
"Orbit spearmint gum wrapper?" Sam asked.  
  
Stu studied the wrapper. "Uh...yeah."  
  
"That's the pack of gum here in my sister's purse. I guess she gave you a piece of gum last night."  
  
"Wow," Phil spoke blandly. "That's helpful."  
  
"Bite me."  
  
"Can I have a piece of gum?" came Alan's question, interrupting the growing tension. Sam looked down and dug through Amanda's purse she was holding on her lap. She pulled a piece out of the packaging and handed it over the front seat. "Thanks."  
  
"Welcome."  
  
The remainder of the cab ride was silent, aside from Alan occasionally popping gum bubbles. When the cabbie pulled up across the street from a store called Harlem Wines and Spirits, Stu paid the fare with one of the twenties from his wallet, letting the cabbie keep the change for the tip. He didn't really care for getting any change back. Phil and Alan were the first to hop out, both having opened their doors at the same time. Phil then offered his hand to Sam to help her out, which she took only long enough to stand upright outside the vehicle, then snatched it back. She couldn't understand this yo-yo of emotions she was feeling. She was considerably attracted to him and could understand why, when completely fucked up, she threw caution to the wind where doing anything with him would be concerned. But in the light of day, even though the attraction was still there, she couldn't help but feel confused about the dynamic between them. She could tell he was attracted to her by the kiss that almost happened in their elevator but the way he could just turn it off and snip at the simplest comment pissed her off.  
  
Once Stu slid over the seat and exited out the same door as Phil and Sam, he shut the door and they all looked up at the liquor store across from them as the cab drove away. They hesistated for a moment as a few more cars drove by before hurrying across the road and up onto the sidewalk. Stu opened the door a little too quickly, accidentally hitting Alan in the face.  
  
"Shit, sorry," Stu remarked apologetically.  
  
Rubbing his nose, Alan shrugged it off and held the door open for Sam and Phil. They smiled appreciatively at the newly beardless man, all heading toward the cash register where an Italian-looking guy in a blue track suit stood cashing out an elderly black man wearing a plaid blazer that had seen better decades.  
  
"See ya later, Vinny," the old man said with a wave over his shoulder before heading out the front door with a bottle of something hidden in a brown paper bag.  
  
"Don't be a stranger," Vinny replied before his eyes began to focus on the foursome walking up to the counter.  
  
"Excuse me, sir?" Stu spoke up just as Vinny seemed to recognize them.  
  
"Tell Pothead Santa to wait outside. I don't need a repeat of last night," Vinny commented. He pointed at Alan and then gestured toward the door. "I don't care if his beard is missing. I can still tell it's him."  
  
"That's actually why we're here," Stu continued. "We're trying to figure out what we did last night. We woke up this morning without any memories of what happened."  
  
"I'm not sayin' anything till Dumbo leaves my store."  
  
Phil placed a hand on Alan's shoulder. "Just wait outside for us, buddy. Okay?"  
  
Alan harumphed but relented. "Fine," he whined like a child, smacking his gum and walking back outside, but occasionally peering in through the glass door.  
  
"Now will you tell us something?" Stu pressed.  
  
Vinny looked between the trio and glowered. "A bunch of you came in here last night to buy some alcohol. About half of you were completely fuckin' bombed."  
  
"A bunch of us?" Sam repeated; curious.  
  
"Yeah," Vinny nodded. "You three, Dumbo outside, another shorter guy and a few ladies all came in." He then looked at Phil. "You had a whole fuckin' shopping cart full of beer, vodka, tequila, whiskey. You name it. Then your fatass friend fell into one of my displays so I charged you for what he broke."  
  
"Explains why it cost me about five hundred bucks total," Phil commented, pulling the receipt out once more to glance a it.  
  
"Did we say anything about where we were headed after here?" Sam asked.  
  
"I don't fuckin' know. I was too busy yellin' at your dumb fuckin' friend for breakin' my shit to care about your plans for the evenin', honey. Once your boy here paid, I kicked your asses out."  
  
Stu, Sam and Phil looked at each other.  
  
"Well at least we know Doug was with us by 10:38 last night," Phil said, glancing at the exact time stamped on the receipt.  
  
"Yeah, but without knowing where else we went after here, how are we going to pinpoint when and where we lost Doug?" Sam questioned.  
  
"Okay," Vinny caved. "I may have overheard you guys mentioning something about hostin' your own rave or some shit like that at what you called some ' _fuckin' awesome as hell hotel suite_ '."  
  
The trio looked at the liquor store clerk. Sam gave him a nod. "Thank you," she commented, turning and gesturing for Stu and Phil to follow her out of the store.  
  
"Don't be a stranger!" Vinny called after them.  
  
As the bell over the door rattled upon closing after them, Alan was standing there on the sidewalk, holding a hot dog in one hand from a vendor a few feet away and in the other hand he was holding a ticket of some sort. "I found this in my satchel. We rode the subway last night," he stated nonchalantly between bites of his hot dog.  
  
"Oh yeah? What time at?" Phil snatched the ticket out of Alan's hand and looked it over. "1:15 AM," he said, checking the time.  
  
"Okay, well, let's look at what we know so far," Sam began with a level head. "Sometime after leaving the restaurant, we all ended up here," she gestured to the liquor store, "where you bought a bunch of booze at 10:30-ish PM for some party we had and for what Alan broke," she added, gesturing to Phil, then Alan. "We rode a subway at 1:15 AM. Amanda got a name and number from some guy at a club. We were at some place with a photobooth. Alan must've been at the hospital to get those stitches..."  
  
"Yeah, but which hospital is anyone's guess," Stu chimed in.  
  
"And we must've gotten into a fight with someone," Phil added, pointing between himself and Sam, in regard to the bruises on their face. "Maybe with whoever cut Alan."  
  
"Also, I lost my suitcase. Let's not forget that." Everyone looked at Alan. "I had several mixed CDs in there."  
  
"Alan, just...eat your dirty water dog," Stu lamented, knowing it really wasn't worth it to respond with anything else. He placed his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up slightly in the process. His hangover headache wasn't as strong as earlier, but it was still there.  
  
"So where do we go next?" Sam wondered, trying to think by looking around as if something would give her a hint.  
  
"Well, we did enough damage to our suite to have been there at least a couple hours. So, we probably went back there after here," Phil began to deduce. "It would've taken, what...fifteen, twenty minutes to get back in Friday night traffic? That would place us getting back around eleven. Alan's subway ticket is from 1:15. That's two hours. Enough time to go crazy, and judging by the damage done and what that guy Vinny in there said," he gestured to the store, "we were all bombed when I bought the liquor. Whatever happened to us, happened probably at dinner."  
  
"But _what_ exactly?" Sam pursed her lips in further thought.  
  
"I still think Alan's behind it, even if he doesn't remember right now. Eventually he will." Stu threw his hands up and began walking south toward Central Park, several blocks away. "He always remembers what he did to us eventually. Give it time," he called over his shoulder.  
  
"But I swore on Joe Jonas," Alan whined.  
  
"Stu," Sam and Phil called after her boss and his friend, respectively.  
  
"There's no point placing any blame right now. All that matters is finding Doug and Amanda," Phil spoke calmly, though his eyes were tired and his general expression was that of irritation. He didn't mind the blackouts and finding out him and his friends did crazy shit the night before, he just didn't like losing his friends in the process. And now add a second lost person to the mix, it wasn't exactly a recipe for good times.  
  
"Well, you wanted to get obliterated, Phil. Looks like you got your wish," Stu snapped, turning around abrupty, getting right in Phil's face. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to be careful what you wish for? _Hmm_?"  
  
"I didn't ask to lose anyone, Stu!" Phil shouted. "I just wanted a _fuckin'_ weekend to lose myself!"  
  
"Oh, woe is _fucking_ you! Your wife cheated on you and left you. Boo _fucking_ hoo. It's been a year! Get the _fuck_ over it!"  
  
Before anyone realized it, Stu had stumbled back onto the sidewalk, landing hard on his ass. He had his hand upon his jaw while looking up at Phil, who was in a fighter's stance, his fist clenched from just having punched his best friend. Sam jumped between them, placing a hand to Phil's chest and giving him a slight push back before crouching down to meet Stu at his level.  
  
"You okay?" she asked him.  
  
Stu nodded. "Yeah," he assured. "I deserved it."  
  
Sam looked up at Phil who had a clenched jaw while his hardened blue eyes began to soften. His nostrils flared less as his anger diminished. After a moment, he leaned down and offered his hand to Stu who took it graciously. As both friends stood face to face, they frowned apologetically at each other.  
  
"I shouldn't have said that," Stu muttered, Sam at his side touching her hand to his face to see if he was cut or not from the punch. He wasn't but it might bruise eventually.  
  
"Sorry I punched you."  
  
Stu shrugged. "Deserved it," he replied simply.  
  
"Yeah," Phil agreed. "You kinda did."  
  
Sam looked at Phil like he was an asshole and at Stu like he was just retarded. Men really were stupid sometimes. Without missing a beat, she jested, "Now if you two ladies are done taking cheap shots at one another, maybe we should take this ticket," she snatched the subway ticket out of Phil's hand that hadn't been clenched in a fist, "and take the same train we apparently took last night and see where it leads us." She looked at Stu and Phil expectantly.  
  
Alan chuckled from behind Phil. "Mama wolf has spoken." He took the last bite of his hot dog and patted Sam's arm. "I like you. You bring a certain Jenny says quoi to the pack."  
  
Sam just narrowed her gaze and smirked. "Thanks, Alan." Then, "I guess." She began to walk ahead of the boys, letting them follow her.  
  


* * *

  
  
Phil walked up the steps from the Chambers Street station at West Broadway; Stu, Sam and Alan following behind him. They had all grabbed the train at the 116 Street station in Harlem, riding on the 2 train which, from Alan's ticket, they knew to be the same train as the night before. They had no idea what their destination had been the night before until tourists sitting across from them on the train mentioned needing to get off at Chambers Street because it was closest to Ground Zero. That clicked with the foursome. Even if it hadn't been where they were headed the night before, it was somewhere they wanted to go at that moment.  
  
They were now walking south on West Broadway, in TriBeCa, as the view of where the Twin Towers once stood came into view. It was no longer just an empty construction or memorial site but was now under full swing of construction of its new buildings. The tallest of them was just a year away from completion. One World Trade Center was to become the largest all-office building in the world. It was already very tall as the foursome craned their necks to look up at it.  
  
"Were you here in New York when the attacks happened?" Phil wondered, looking to Sam at his right.  
  
She was still staring upward as she shook her head with a frown. "No," she replied. "I was in LA by then; twenty-one and finishing college." Sam looked over at Phil. "What about you?"  
  
"I was twenty-five, one year married with a newborn son, and I was the new teacher at the school I work at."  
  
"I had just started my third year of dental school and had no love life to speak of," Stu offered up, a sly smile tugging his lips upward.  
  
Phil and Sam both smirked at him. All three then looked at Alan, wondering if he'd offer anything up. And he did. And somehow they really weren't surprised by what he said.  
  
"I was managing an *NSYNC cover band called *NSTEP. They only got one gig at some girl's bat mitzvah." Then, honestly, he added, "I wasn't very good at managing a band."  
  
"Really?" Stu asked as if that was something surprising to him. His tone was sarcastic, though, and went unnoticed by Alan.  
  
"Yeah. I was more into designing their shirts. I was going through a glitter phase and wore a lot of animal prints."  
  
Sam let out a chuckle. "I went through that phase, too."  
  
Alan looked at her and held his hand up for a high five, which she obliged him with. "Ha. Classic."  
  
"Well..." Phil trailed, glancing down at Sam again. He tapped her sister's purse which she had slung over her shoulder. "We should find that club from that napkin. I figure we might've gone there after the party at our hotel. If we were that shitfaced and still in a partying mood, we'd probably hit up a club for drinking and dancing is my guess."  
  
"Good point," Sam agreed. She opened Amanda's purse and found the napkin folded up. She pulled it out and looked at the insignia in the corner. It was a black martini glass with a snake curled around it. The name of the club was apparently called Venom. "Google a Manhattan club called Venom," she told Phil.  
  
He pulled his phone out and typed in the info. After a moment he hit the jackpot. "Venom Lounge and Nightclub..." he scrolled down the page on his phone for the address. "It's on Houston Street?" he replied in question form. He had no idea where a Houston Street was.  
  
"That's in the Bowery," Sam explained. "Lower East Side."  
  
Phil shrugged. "Don't know what good it's going to do. Its website says it doesn't open till seven and it's..." he looked at his watch. "It's almost two."  
  
"Well, there's gotta be someone there. The owner, maybe? A bartender? Someone cleaning up from the night before?" Stu threw out suggestions.  
  
Sam nodded. "It's worth a shot."  
  
"Alright. Alan, make yourself useful and hail a taxi for us," Phil gestured at Alan.  
  
Walking toward the curb, Alan looked like a hot mess with Stu's red swim trunks fitting tightly against his legs and the green T-shirt damn near strangling him. With his gut sticking out the bottom of the shirt, he was a sight for sore eyes. His hand went up, waving nonchalantly as a couple of yellow taxi cabs came near. "Yoohoo! Taxi!" he called out with a determined smile on his face.  
  
"I'm not sure I like him without the beard and only the mustache," Stu commented from a few feet behind, murmuring to Phil and Sam. "He looks more like a pedophile this way."  
  
"Totally," Phil agreed.  
  
The cabs drove on by, the drivers seemingly not giving Alan a second glance, if they even gave him a first one to begin with. Phil rolled his eyes, getting bored already. "You're not putting enough of yourself out there for the drivers to notice, Al."  
  
"Well, I'm not going to jump in front of a cab. What if I get hurt?"  
  
Sam smiled mischievously. "You don't have to step out into traffic. You just gotta make them notice you." She stepped forward, linked her fingers from both hands together to crack them outward, then cracked her neck from side to side. "Watch and learn."  
  
Placing a hand on Alan's chest, she pushed him back slightly as she had to Phil after he'd punched Stu. Alan stepped back a foot or two as Sam positioned herself on the edge of the sidewalk. She brought a hand to her chest to pull the front of the dress down enough to show off more of her cleavage, then shoved her hand upright in a strong motion and kept it there.  
  
She didn't have to shout out anything at all; the first yellow cab not already occupied pulled up automatically to the curb.  
  
Sam spun around and smirked at the three men, shimmying her body a little in a sort of victory dance. "And _that's_ how you hail a cab," she announced. She then added as a joke, poking Alan in the man boob. "Next time show off your tits a little."  
  
Phil and Stu both laughed at that. Alan just frowned a little as he opened the front, passenger side door. He seemed to like sitting next to the driver. Stu opened the back door but let Sam go in first, then knowingly he remained still to let Phil slide in next. They caught each other's eye to which Phil narrowed his.  
  
"Get in, Don Juan. The day's not getting any younger," Stu ushered his friend.  
  
Phil hesitated a moment longer and then ducked his head to enter the cab, taking the seat in the middle, between Sam and Stu, once the latter hopped in.  
  
"Where to?" the cabbie asked.  
  
"Venom Lounge and Nightclub on Houston," Sam announced.  
  
Without really thinking on it, Phil stretched his arms over the tops of the backseat; his right arm behind Stu's head, his left behind Sam's. He looked at her as the cab pulled away from the curb and merged with traffic. He looked down and caught a glimpse of her cleavage. It was just a glimpse, though. He immediately pulled his eyes away and stared straight ahead, awaiting their next destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vinny is portrayed by Bryan Callen (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0130437), as I thought it would be funny to continue with director Todd Phillips' penchant for using the actor again (Eddie in The Hangover, Samir in The Hangover Part 2).


	10. Oh Nuts

Pedestrians went casually about their day; walking in both directions on the sidewalk or crossing the street, talking on their cell phones, talking to each other, daydreaming, looking for something or someone, one or two taking pictures for business or pleasure. Their focus set on something ahead of them. Not on the door to the front entrance of Venom Lounge and Nightclub bursting open only to have some burly, muscled ex-marine with no neck tossing Phil out, ass first.  
  
" _Unngghhh_!" Phil moaned in pain, landing flat on his back, his arms and legs momentarily up in the air as he laid there like a sack of coal on the sidewalk.  
  
Most of the pedestrians parted like the Red Sea to stare and get out of the way while the others, the true New Yorkers, went about their lives as if someone getting tossed out of a club with a jarhead reject aiming a Louisville Slugger during non-business hours was nothing out of the ordinary. As if it was actually commonplace.  
  
Stu, Sam and Alan came running out of the club from behind No-Neck, who was no doubt a bouncer. Why he was already at work that early was a mystery. Stu came up to step in front of No-Neck, holding his hands out to prevent Phil getting beat, possibly any further, with the baseball bat.  
  
"Whoa, whoa, stop! Hey, stop!" Stu's eyes were wide and determined behind his glasses.  
  
"Omigod, Phil, are you okay?" Sam was kneeling down beside him and looking his face over as she had to Stu before, but this time Phil was actually wounded.  
  
There was a cut on the right of his forehead that was dribbling blood down the side of his face. He looked a little dazed and confused at the moment as he tried to get his bearings. "Fuck," he grumbled, taking a deep breath.  
  
Sam took the club napkin that had the name and number on it and pressed it gently to Phil's forehead, holding it there to stop the bleeding. "Seriously, asshole," she growled up at No-Neck. "Cut back on the _fucking_ steroids."  
  
No-Neck aimed the head of the bat at Sam and sneered. "Shut it, Reba. I'm not above hitting a girl."  
  
Sam jumped to her feet and went to run at No-Neck for his comment, but Stu grabbed her arms, holding her back.  
  
"You try it, fuckface, and I'll rip your dick off and shove it up your own ass," she spat.  
  
"Get the fuck outta here or I'll call the cops," came another man, shorter and built similarly to Doug. He was wearing black dress pants and matching blazer but no shirt underneath; just his bare chest and a few gold chains. His hair was slicked back and he was wearing Rayban Wayfarer sunglasses, which he'd been wearing _inside_ the club, completing his overall douchebag look. "I see any of you _anywhere_ near my club again and I'll make sure Lyle here breaks all your legs, _comprende_?"  
  
"Go ahead and call the cops. We'll have you arrested on assault charges!" Sam barked, gesturing wildly at the people stopped dead on the sidewalk. "We have fucking witnesses."  
  
"And I have you four and two others, on camera, fucking up my club last night. So that makes us even."  
  
"Actually I think assault is a greater offense than destruction of property," Alan commented, only to be met with the bat against his stomach, though not hard enough to really hurt him. It knocked the wind out of him for a second, though.  
  
Sam wriggled out of Stu's grasp and dropped back down to place her hands on Phil's shoulders while still glaring up at the club owner and his muscled goon Lyle. "Can you stand?" she asked Phil as the latter pair returned back into the club and the pedestrians went back about their business as if nothing had happened, walking around the foursome.  
  
Phil nodded, pinching his nose with his fingers and tilting his head back. "I think my nose is broken."  
  
"It's not broken, you got whacked in the head by a baseball bat." Sam kept the napkin to his forehead as she and Stu helped him up to his feet.  
  
"Remind me to never get blackout drunk in a Manhattan club again," Phil grumbled, wincing when Sam pressed the napkin a little firmer against his cut.  
  
"We must've had a great time here last night," Alan quipped with a grin, looking back at the front of the club. "Classic us."  
  
"At least that barmaid who was off the clock in there was nice enough to explain things calmly before Chico and the Man came cruisin' for a bruisin'," Sam remarked, letting Phil take over in holding the napkin to his head.  
  
He looked at her with a curious gaze. " _Cruisin' for a bruisin'_? Really?" Despite his pain, he laughed a little.  
  
"I can't believe you set fire to the bar," Stu commented, rather impressed, as the foursome began to walk away from the club, in no direction in particular. "Literally."  
  
"Well, in my defense, I have no memory of it."  
  
"I wish I did," continued Stu, a smile forming on his face. "You dancing on the bar then pouring an entire bottle of bourbon on it and dropping a lit lighter? We really do go all the way when we're out of it."  
  
"And apparently you were stripping," Sam added, looking at Phil. The idea sounded quite pleasing to her. She had already seen him in only his boxer briefs that morning, so she knew what the merchandise looked like, but not in the context of what had apparently happened at the club.  
  
"Yeah, but you started it," Phil looked at her. "The barmaid said you got up on the bar first, pulling a Coyote Ugly, pouring a bottle of Jack into everyone's mouths."  
  
They fell silent, smirking at the crazy despite themselves while trying to place more missing pieces into the puzzle.  
  
"The good thing to come out of this visit was learning Doug was still with us at two-thirty in the morning when we ran out of here last night to avoid the cops," Sam chuckled a bit.  
  
Phil gave a nod. "Yep," he agreed. "The only good thing about this visit."  
  
Sam mock pouted at him, reaching both hands up to place them on his shoulders, giving him a short-lived shoulder rub. "Aww, poor baby."  
  
Narrowing his eyes down at her with faux disdain, he quickly turned his frown upside down and gestured with a nod of his head toward the rest of the street ahead of them. "Alright. Where to next?"  
  
"How about we take some time to get something to eat?" Stu suggested. "My stomach is growling like a tiger."  
  
"Like Mike Tyson's tiger, Stu?" Alan asked as they headed up the road.  
  
"Like any tiger, Alan," he replied, faintly annoyed.  
  


* * *

  
"I guess you really were hungry," Sam observed, watching as Stu all but shoveled a fistful of fries into his mouth, taking a moment to wipe his hands on his napkin. His mouth was quite full so he only looked across the table at her with a shrug and smirk.  
  
The four of them were sitting at a small table on the patio of a cafe in Greenwich Village. A waiter stopped by their table and others once in a while to check if they were doing okay and needed anything else from time to time, but mostly left the customers to enjoy their food. Some of the customers could be found staring at Phil. His cut had stopped bleeding but there was some dried blood still around it and down the side of the face. Not as much as before, though. He'd gotten most of it wiped off by dabbing a clean napkin into his glass of iced tea. There was, however, a considerable amount of dried blood on the right side of his shirt collar and several drops on his shoulder. Two older women stared at him, possibly disgusted.  
  
Phil just glared back. "What? You never seen a little blood before? Take a fucking picture, it lasts longer."  
  
"Phil," Stu chastised, looking over at the ladies. "Sorry," he apologized on Phil's behalf.  
  
"Don't apologize to them," he told Stu, then a little louder for the women to hear, "It's fucking rude to stare."  
  
"It's also rude to act like an asshole in a restaurant."  
  
Phil threw his Aviators on the bridge of his nose, leaning back in his chair as he lifted the top bun off of his burger to pull one of the pickles out, throwing it to the plate. "I'm not in a restaurant. I'm on a patio. I got first amendment, freedom of speech rights."  
  
"Actually, freedom of speech doesn't include obscenities, defamation, incitement to riot, and fighting words, as well as harassment," Alan pointed out, taking a sip of Coke from the straw in his glass.  
  
Phil just stared at Alan from across the table through the caramel-colored glass of his Aviators. "I don't recall giving a shit, Alan," he snipped casually.  
  
Just then the phone in Sam's sister's purse began to ring. Sam looked down, pulling it out and immediately frowning. Stu and Phil looked at her expectantly. Maybe it was her sister and then it would be one less person to have to look for.  
  
"Hey, mom," Sam greeted with as much of a smile in her voice as she could muster. "No, it's Sam. Because she's in the bathroom right now." The others watched how Sam had to lie to her mother about her sister's whereabouts. "I know it's the day before the wedding, but Amanda and I haven't seen each other in a while and we knew it would be harder to see each other after she's married and I'm back in LA. Because we wanted to take the day and relax in the city...sisterly bonding. We've been having a wild time," with the last sentence she met Stu's smirk. The smirk wasn't mirrored on Sam's face, though. She picked up her bagel and brought it to her lips to take a bite, not really paying attention to what she was doing as she tried to placate her mother. "We might stay the night in the city again. We'll be back early tomorrow for the wedding, obviously..."  
  
Sam trailed off as Alan suddenly complained to her. "Hey, that's my bagel."  
  
She looked down and dropped the bagel, her voice turning raspy out of nowhere. "Gotta go, mom." She was suddenly losing her voice and she turned off the phone, turning to look into the purse once again ever so frantically for something and not finding whatever it was. Her eyes immediately shot across the table to Stu as her face began to turn blotchy and red.  
  
"You okay, Sam?" Phil asked, touching his hand to her shoulder.  
  
She looked at him for a moment and touched her right hand to her throat, going to say something but only a gasp escaping her lips, followed by a succession of more gasps. Her hands began to flutter wildly in front of her, as if a panic attack was setting in. Once again she looked at Stu and gestured to Alan's bagel she had accidentally taken a bite of.  
  
Stu's eyes went wide. "Oh! _Nuts_!"  
  
"What?" Phil asked, growing concerned.  
  
"Nuts," Stu replied. He turned his gaze to Alan. "What's on your bagel, Alan?"  
  
"Peanut butter. I don't like cream cheese."  
  
Sam began to shake and fell out of her chair, knocking the table over with her foot as it kicked upward before her back hit the ground. Stu was on his feet in an instant, moving around the downed table to be at Sam's side. Phil followed suit.  
  
"Sam's allergic to any kind of nut. She needs epinephrine," Stu explained, placing his hands on either side of Sam's face; his own stricken with worry. "Get her EpiPen out of her purse," he continued, talking to Phil.  
  
"That's not her purse," Phil reminded. "It's her sister's. Unless her sister is allergic, too, I doubt there's an EpiPen in there."  
  
"Fuck!" Stu exclaimed. "Will someone call 911?"  
  
"Dude, you're a doctor. Can't you do something?"  
  
"Oh, sure, _now_ I'm a doctor and not just a dentist!"  
  
"Help's on the way, sirs," the waiter said, crouching down. "We've seen this sort of thing happen before. But usually the person has their medication on them."  
  
Alan began to whimper as he watched the scene unfold. Phil tried keeping a level head along with Stu so Sam wouldn't feel to frightened. "What's the worst case scenario if she doesn't get an EpiPen soon, Stu?"  
  
Stu lowered his voice. "She can die."  
  
Phil ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, fuck."  
  
"Can you try CPR on her to help her breathe?" Alan asked, scared.  
  
"It's worth a shot," Phil shrugged.  
  
Stu went to lean down to try CPR on Sam, but Alan held him back. "Not you, Stu. That'll be like you're cheating on Lauren. Let Phil do it. He doesn't have a wife anymore."  
  
"For Christ's sake," Phil growled, pushing Stu out of the way when he hesitated at Alan's comment. He leaned down over Sam, placing his hands on her face before bringing his lips against hers, breathing air into her mouth. "This wasn't how I thought kissing you would be like," he tried to joke with her. The initial breath of air didn't seem to do much but she was still conscious enough to frown at him. "Sorry," he apologized, realizing it wasn't the best time for a joke. He brought his lips to hers once more, trying to give her air.  
  
The sound of sirens came into earshot and quickly approached. As an ambulance pulled up next to the curb. "Over here!" Phil shouted, noticing Sam had fallen unconscious. Or at least that's what he hoped had happened. Two EMTs, a man and woman, hopped out with their bags and ran over to where Sam lay on the ground with Phil hovering above her.  
  
"She accidentally ate peanut butter and she's extremely allergic and she has no EpiPen on her because her and her sister accidentally switched purses at some point," Stu rattled as if he was going to start hyperventilating at any moment. He was just so worried. He really cared about Sam as a friend and she was probably his best, if not favorite, hygienist at his practice.  
  
"Sir, out of the way, please," the male EMT, Eric, said to Phil, who leaned back to let the man do his job. He pulled an epinephrine pen ouf of his bag and immediately injected it into Sam's thigh.  
  
"Is she going to be okay?" Phil questioned, looking between both EMTs; Alan's crying filling the air around them.  
  
"She should be fine now. Your waiter was quick to call us and you were lucky. We were only a few blocks away on another call," the female EMT named Julie, remarked.  
  
"I did CPR. It seemed to help a little."  
  
"It was a smart move. It bought her some time."  
  
Stu leaned back on his knees. Both him and Phil were on the ground with Sam and the EMTs while Alan was still sitting in his chair, a little bit beside himself. Stu felt bad that he was taking it so hard so he patted Alan's knee. "She's gonna be fine, Alan. It was your quick thinking about the CPR that helped her."  
  
"Really? So I'm kind of like a hero now?"  
  
"Sure. Something like that."  
  
"Cool," Alan muttered, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand.  
  
"We're gonna recommend taking her to the hospital just to make sure she's okay," Eric the EMT informed. EMT Julie got up and went to the back of the ambulance, opening the doors and pulling an emergency stretcher out and wheeling it up onto the sidewalk. Phil and Stu stood up as both EMTs lifted Sam up onto the stretcher as she began to come to. She seemed pretty dazed.  
  
"We're coming with," Stu informed them adamantly.  
  
The EMTs didn't seem to care as they began to load Sam into the back of the ambulance. Stu pulled a few twenties out of his wallet and handed it to their waiter.  
  
"Keep the change!" he called out as he grabbed Alan up off his chair and led him toward the ambulance. They hopped up inside, with Alan needing extra help from EMT Eric. Stu slid over toward Sam's head and smiled. "You gave us quite a scare."  
  
Her eyes felt heavy as she smirked ruefully. "Wasn't my intention," she rasped.  
  
Phil slid in beside Stu while Alan sat on the other side of the stretcher, across from them. EMT Eric shut the doors behind them and hopped into the driver's seat up front. Since Sam was basically out of the woods, there was no need for them to throw the emergency siren on as they pulled out into traffic and toward the nearest hospital.  
  
"Next time, pay attention to what you eat," Phil chided, reaching his hand out to give her knee a squeeze.


	11. Congrats

There were a few sick kids sitting with their moms and dads in the waiting room of St. Vincent's ER, one person had a bag of some sort of frozen vegetable pressed to their face to nurse some sort of bruise or wound, an old lady who smelled greatly of urine was slouched and staring ahead with God knows what problem going on with her. And then there were Phil and Stu, sitting side by side; Alan's whereabouts unknown at the moment.  
  
Stu sat slightly slouched, his hands folded in his lap as he stared at a spot on the floor to avoid making eye contact with Piss Lady who kept looking up at the pair. Phil was fully slouched in his chair, his long legs stretched out so far they almost touched the feet of the young mother sitting across from him with her young daughter who looked to be about one or two years old. His right arm was draped across his lap while his left arm was propped up so that he could rest his head in his hand. For a moment, his blue eyes panned over to the young mother who smiled briefly at him. He smiled back and made eye contact with the little girl who also looked at him. She was an adorable thing that held his gaze like she were staring into his soul. Big brown, doleful eyes that were tired from whatever cold she had. Despite whatever ailed her, she found a way to smile at him without inhibition.  
  
Phil couldn't help himself. He lifted his right hand out of his lap and wiggled his fingers at her in a wave, mouthing a hello. Her smile grew wider, if that was at all possible, and she waved back. The gesture warmed his heart, but no one would ever guess it as his face went blank. His mind, however, was reeling a mile a minute. He was wondering how his kids were doing; if they were having fun in Disneyland. Maybe next summer he'd be able to afford to take them both to Florida to Disney World or Universal Studios. The latter had that Harry Potter park. Eli loved Harry Potter. And his daughter Penny...  
  
"...for your thoughts?" came Stu's voice, disrupting his train of thought.  
  
"What?" Phil lifted his head and looked over at Stu.  
  
"Penny for your thoughts?" Stu repeated.  
  
Phil shook his head nonchalantly. "Nothing really. Just wondering how my kids are."  
  
Giving his friend a quick pat on the leg, Stu smiled almost teasingly. "I've always said the douchebag exterior was a front."  
  
"Really? Is that what you've always said, Dr. Faggot?"  
  
Stu pressed his lips together and gave Phil a withering look. "We're gonna go there again, are we?"  
  
"Always."  
  
"Hey guys, look what I bought."  
  
Phil and Stu turned to their left to find Alan standing there, no longer wearing Stu's green T-shirt but a white T-shirt that fit him properly with _I heart New York_ written across the chest plate; the words were in black letters and instead of the word heart, it was a red heart. But the shirt wasn't what he was showing off. It was a small, brown teddy bear holding a miniature foil balloon on a stick that said 'Get Well Soon' on it.  
  
"It's for Sam," Alan continued as if they hadn't already guessed as much.  
  
"That's really sweet of you, Alan," Phil commented, sitting up in his seat. He craned his neck back to look toward the nurse's station. "I'm gonna see if I can find out anything on Sam. Alan, save my seat."  
  
As Phil stood up, Alan readily obliged and sat down. "Ooh, it's warm."  
  
"'Cause he was just sitting there," Stu remarked, stating the obvious.  
  
Phil walked over to the nurse's station, placing his palms on the counter and flashing a charming smile at the nurse seated there. "Hi, my name's Phil Wenneck. My friend Samantha Simmons was brought in by ambulance. She had a severe allergic reaction to some peanut butter. My other friends and I rode along and we've been waiting here about forty minutes and were just wondering how she's doing and if we can see her or if she's good to go..."  
  
The nurse, falling a little bit in love with his eyes, blushed and just about fumbled all over herself at her desk. She smiled, "Let...uh, let me just check..." she spoke as her eyes became distracted with something or someone behind Phil. "Actually, Dr. Kerwin? Were you looking in on a patient named Samantha Simmons?"  
  
Phil turned around to stand face to face with a female doctor in her early to mid thirties, shoulder length brown hair and a knowing smile. "Hello, again," she smirked at Phil. "Couldn't stay away?"  
  
Phil was confused. "Sorry, have we met before?"  
  
Dr. Kerwin nodded. "You and your friends were all in here early this morning to get one of you stitched up."  
  
"We were?"  
  
"Ms. Simmons told me about your blackout," Dr. Kerwin informed as she glanced over in the direction of the waiting room. "You and your friends can come with me."  
  
As she began to walk away, Phil looked over at Stu and Alan, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Hey, guys...come on," he gestured for them to join him.  
  
Moments later, all three men had followed Dr. Kerwin into an exam room where Sam was sitting upright on a hospital bed, her legs extended in front of her as she looked up to see the others walk in. Alan stepped forward and presented her with the teddy bear holding the get well soon balloon.  
  
"Here, I bought this for you," he announced. "But it's from all of us, really. We're glad you didn't die from my peanut butter."  
  
Sam smiled appreciatively at Alan and took the teddy bear in her hands. "Aww, thanks, Alan." She then looked between Phil and Stu. "Both of you, too. For doing what you could to be my knights in shining armor."  
  
Stu just smiled, glad to see she was feeling better. "So, what's the prognosis, doctor? Is Sam free to go? Not to rush this along but her sister's getting married tomorrow and we kind've lost her and our other friend Doug at some point last night."  
  
Dr. Kerwin gave a nod. "Samantha went into anaphylactic shock, but she's fine now. I've given her a new EpiPen and yes, she's free to go."  
  
"Are you sure she's fine? She passed out even after I tried CPR on her," Phil pressed, his hands on his hips.  
  
"Loss of consciousness is common during allergic reactions like the one she had."  
  
"Okay." For whatever reason, Phil was only faintly reassured. He looked over at Sam, catching her eye for a moment. They held their mutual gaze and broke apart when the doctor began to speak again.  
  
"As I was telling you before," she said to Phil, "Samantha has already told me about how you were blackout drunk last night and woke up this morning with no recollection of last night's events or where your friends are."  
  
"Yeah, and you said we were here early this morning for Alan. He got stitched up here, right?"  
  
Dr. Kerwin nodded at Phil. "Yeah, you all came into the emergency room last night just before 4 AM. It was a relatively slow night so you weren't here that long. No more than thirty, forty minutes tops."  
  
"Did we say how Alan got injured and where? Was our friend Doug with us?"  
  
"You were all going on about him getting into a bum fight down by the Brooklyn Bridge and how awesome it was," Dr. Kerwin explained as if she'd heard stories like this from patients before. Like it was old hat. "That's the extent of what you told me. As for your friend Doug, it was just you four and a blonde, which Samantha told me is her sister. There was no one else with you."  
  
"Shit," Stu cursed. "So we lost Doug before four, but he was with us when we got thrown out of that club around two-thirty. That's an hour and a half gap of where we lost him. And sometime in between there, Alan fought a bum."  
  
"That does sound like something I would do," Alan chuckled a bit to himself.  
  
Phil gave Alan a sidelong glance before looking back over at the doctor. "Was there anything else? Did we mention anything about where we might have come from beside a bum fight or where we were going after here?"  
  
"Sorry, no." Dr. Kerwin patted Sam's feet and began to inch for the door. "I wish there was more I could say to help you finding your friend," she looked to Sam, "and your sister, in time for her wedding tomorrow."  
  
The guys and Sam looked down toward the floor, trying to process the new clues and pieces to the puzzle just as Dr. Kerwin stopped in her tracks and turned to look at Phil, then Sam.  
  
"And congratulations, by the way. I figure if you don't remember anything from last night, you wouldn't remember me congratulating you either."  
  
Phil raised his head and narrowed his gaze at the doctor. "Come again?"  
  
Sam spoke up, too. "Yeah. Congratulations for what?"  
  
"Your engagement," Dr. Kerwin answered frankly. "All the while I was stitching up your friend here you kept showing off the ring you got her." She looked over at Sam with a smile. "Big rock, too."  
  
With that, the doctor left the room, leaving everyone else confused. "You two got engaged last night?" Alan beamed. "That's great! Congrats!"  
  
Phil blinked and looked at Alan. "What did you say?"  
  
"Congrats."  
  
"That's right," Phil muttered, pulling his cell phone from his pocket, searching for something. "You sent me a text last night saying that same thing."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Stu remembered, catching sight of Sam looking down at her left ring finger. There was nothing there and she still looked confused.  
  
"Here it is," Phil announced. "It was from 2:46 AM."  
  
"That was about fifteen minutes after we left the club, give or take a few," Sam finally spoke up, pulled from her thoughts for the moment. "So, my question is, where did you get some big ass engagement ring and when did we apparently get engaged? In the club? In those fifteen minutes between leaving the club and Alan texting you?"  
  
Phil shrugged. "No fucking clue."  
  
"Maybe we should try heading to the Brooklyn Bridge and find those bums Alan fought, and they can tell us if Doug was with us because, no offense, you two supposedly getting engaged isn't exactly important right now." Stu looked between his friend and employee.  
  
"Alright, let's get out of here and catch a cab to the bridge," Sam said, hopping down from the bed and walking up to the guys. She sidled up beside Phil who let her lead the way out of the room.  
  
"After you, my dear," he quipped.  


 

* * *

  
  
Evening was starting to fall upon the city, but because it was June and summertime, the sun would still be out for several more hours and the temperature was still warm with no hint of cooling off that much. A yellow taxi cab pulled up to Brooklyn Bridge Park, letting the guys and Sam out so they could figure out if they lost Doug before or after the bum fight. As they walked along the small grassy area that was supposed to be a park, they couldn't find anyone who looked the least bit homeless. They walked further along the waterfront which faced the East River and across to Brooklyn. There was no area that looked derelict enough for homeless people to take up residence, if you could call it that.  
  
"This is fucking wild goose chase," Stu whined, throwing his hands up in exasperation.  
  
"I don't see any bums," Alan commented, a little disappointment in his voice.  
  
Phil walked up to the railing beside the walking path that went along the river for walkers, joggers, runners and the like. His shoulder flexed as he looked out across the moving water, staring in the direction of the more blue collared Brooklyn.  
  
"There wouldn't be any homeless people here," Sam remarked, walking up beside Phil to stare out as well. "The city's been trying to clean up places like this in recent years, building more shelters and programs to get people off the streets." She turned to lean sideways against the railing. Phil, feeling her gaze upon him, let his eyes drift to her face, trying to read between the lines of the hint she was dropping. "There wouldn't be any homeless people _here_ ," she repeated, her eyes then gesturing across the river.  
  
Phil finally caught on and smiled. "But there _might_ be on the Brooklyn side of the Brooklyn Bridge."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Wait, what am I missing?" Stu asked.  
  
Sam gestured over toward Brooklyn. "Look, there's warehouse-style buildings over there. Not as pristine as over here. It would be easy for homeless people to convene around the base of the bridge in the middle of the night."  
  
"So are we going over to Brooklyn?" Alan asked.  
  
"Yeah," Sam spoke, making the decision.  
  
"How are we getting there?" Alan wondered. "We just got rid of our taxi cab."  
  
"We walk across."


	12. A View From A Bridge

To get to the Brooklyn Bridge Pedestrian Walk from the Manhattan side of the bridge, the foursome had to backtrack a few blocks to get to the entrance at City Hall. They didn't bother wasting time taking in the scenery the view from the bridge offered them as they were on a mission to get their friends back. Alan became distracted a few times by the fact that traffic was roaring below but otherwise kept up. Their pace was fast even though they were considerably exhausted. The guys especially. They'd been jetlagged from their flight into New York only to stay up all night, not get to bed till God knows how long after arriving back to the hotel at six in the morning the next day, only to wake up at eleven, then spend a good portion of the day walking around the city, getting beat up, going into anaphylactic shock, getting attacked by a macaw, losing their clothes. They were physically and mentally exhausted. But they were that much closer to figuring out what happened to Doug and Amanda.  
  
As they neared the exit to the Pedestrian Walk, Sam's sister's phone rang and she answered it. "Hello?" It was her mother and she hoped that maybe Amanda had gotten home or had found a way to call home from wherever she was. Stu turned around to look at her and look for a hint that that's exactly what had happened. However, Sam's face fell. "We're going to stay in the city. Yes. Yes, I know this is all last minute."  
  
Apparently Amanda was still out there somewhere like Doug. Stu and Phil looked at each other and frowned.  
  
"Amanda and I are going to dinner soon and then to catch a musical. Which one?" she said, clearly repeating whatever her mother had asked. She made a face. "Uh... _Rock of Ages_." She had just seen a billboard for it earlier that day and it was the first show she could think of. "After that? We're gonna head back to the hotel we stayed at last night and go to bed so we can be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow morning." Sam sighed. "Yes, mom. Your princess will be on time to her wedding." She rolled her eyes and clenched her teeth. "I keep answering because you keep calling. I dropped my phone and it broke that's why you can't get a hold of me through my phone. Yes...mom..."  
  
Sam didn't even say goodbye. She just growled under her breath hung up the phone mid sentence. Phil placed a hand on the small of her back and gave a reassuring rub.  
  
"I feel like I'm thirteen again instead of thirty-three everytime I talk to her."  
  
"Parents can be douchebags sometimes," Phil remarked. Pointing to himself, "Look at me. I'm a father and I can be a douchebag. I recognize this."  
  
Sam laughed a little. His comment made her feel a little better. "I'm really just worried about Amanda. If I have her purse and phone, she has to have my purse and phone. It wasn't in the hotel suite. I don't know why she hasn't tried calling me or anyone else with my phone. I charged it last night before we went out for dinner so it should have enough life to it. I hope." Her brow creased with worry lines. "What if something happened to her, something serious? What if she's dead in a gutter somewhere? What if she went to catch a train back to Long Island and someone pushed her off the platform in front of an oncoming train and there was nothing left of her to recognize?"  
  
"Okay, I doubt any of that happened. Maybe she's stuck somewhere that has bad reception and can't get any service with your phone. Maybe your purse was stolen from her and she's just stranded somewhere. Maybe she's with Doug."  
  
"But she was with us when we got back this morning, Doug wasn't. How can she be with him?"  
  
Phil shrugged. "I don't know. It's just a thought." For whatever reason, that thought sounded very plausible to him. "Try not to think of anything bad. We'll find them both." He brought his hand up from the small of her back and up to her shoulder opposite from him, giving it a squeeze as he pulled her into a sort of side hug.  
  
Finally the foursome stepped off the Pedestrian Walk via the underpass on Washington Street. They were officially in Brooklyn now, but had to swing back around, street level, toward the water's edge. It took a few more minutes of walking up Washington Street before they came to the very end of the road; the dead end looking upon Empire-Fulton Ferry State Park. The entrance in front of them seemed more family-oriented, complete with a children's playground. If they turned onto Plymouth Street on the left, it led to an adjacent section of the park which was void of anything but grass and a couple small trees, and situated beside the base of the Brooklyn Bridge.  
  
"Do you see any bums over here?" Stu asked. "I don't see any bums."  
  
"It's still early," Phil replied. "Maybe they wait till dark to huddle over here so they're not noticeable by cops driving around or something."  
  
"Let's go in that way," Sam pointed to the left side of the park.  
  
As they made their way into the entrance of the other section of Empire-Fulton Ferry State Park, the foursome took note of a few evening joggers along the footpath and two guys playing frisbee closer to the edge of the water. Shortly thereafter, the joggers disappeared out of the park and even the frisbee guys packed up and left out the Old Dock Street entrance to the park. It seemed to be only Stu, Phil, Sam and Alan there now.  
  
"So, do we just wait here?" Stu asked, looking over at Sam. "Do the bums crawl out from under the rocks when the sun sets behind the buildings?"  
  
His voice was filled with slight derision which Sam frowned at. "I don't know, Stu."  
  
As they found a bench to sit on, they all just stared out. Stu was right. This was starting to feel more like a wild goose chase. Phil remained standing however, resting his hands, clasped together, on the top of his head, trying to think of possible solutions when he spotted a group of shabby looking men hopping over a fence at the end of the park next to the base of the Brooklyn Bridge.  
  
"I think I found our bums," he announced. He began to walk forward so the others stood up and followed behind him. "Hey!" he called out. "Excuse me, we were wondering if any of you could hel―"  
  
_THWACK!_  
  
Phil dropped suddenly to his hands and knees in pain as a wild-eyed, soiled man in his mid to late sixties appeared seemingly out of nowhere, swinging a crooked golf club. He spun around and immediately whacked the club into Alan's face then turned to swing at Sam. She ducked only for a surprised Stu to get hit in the neck. All three men were down and trying to find their ways back up to their feet as the crazy man dropped the golf club and lunged at Sam. He grabbed her by the shoulders and got right in her face, his breath absolutely putrid.  
  
"Die, Charlie, _die_!" he shouted in a gruff and angry voice, giving Sam a rough shove backwards. She lost her footing and her calves hit against Stu's side, causing her to fly back and flip over him, falling to the ground beside him with a heavy thud, momentarily knocking the air out of her lungs.  
  
"Ow," she whined.  
  
"Chill the _fuck_ out, man!" Phil growled up at the crazy guy, kneeling and holding his hands up in slight surrender.  
  
"Who's Charlie?" Alan was questioning, as he crawled away before trying to get up to his feet. He spit some blood from his mouth and wiped his lips with his arm. Stu, meanwhile, could barely catch his breath from the force the club had hit his neck. He slumped to his side and rolled onto his back to lay beside Sam on the ground, ready to welcome oblivion at that point.  
  
The crazy guy picked up his crooked golf club again and was about to go for round two with the foursome when one of the bums that had hopped the fence came running up. He looked to be in his early forties and looked surprisingly clean for someone who was homeless. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" the bum called out, rushing to the crazy guy's side and grabbing the club out of his hands. "Carl, chillax, man. Stop hitting the people. It's not the war, man. It's over." The bum looked at the foursome, stepping over to help Phil up.  
  
"What the fuck was that all about?" Phil demanded as Stu finally decided to clamber up to his feet, then leaning over to help up Sam. Phil looked over to see Alan still crawling around as if in a daze.  
  
"Sorry about Crazy Carl," the bum apologized. "He gets these flashbacks, thinks he's back in 'Nam or some shit." The bum looked at three behind Phil with a smirk then. "What're you all doing back here? Here for more?" Pointing to Alan, his smirk turned into an appreciative smile. "Thanks for the money by the way. Was able to buy some decent food for all of us. And some booze."  
  
Alan finally stood up, but staggered a bit to the right as if trying to regain his equilibrium. As soon as he looked over at the bum, he shrugged. "You're welcome. Why did I give you money?"  
  
Phil interrupted. "A doctor told us we mentioned being here last night and Alan here got into a fight. He got cut."  
  
The bum nodded. "Yeah, Tubs paid me a hundred bucks to fight him and he punched me good," he responded, touching his fingers to his jaw. "I think I swallowed an old filling."  
  
"Was there another guy with us?" Stu inquired, rubbing his neck gingerly.  
  
"And a blonde woman?" came Sam's interjection.  
  
Phil turned and looked back at her. "We already know that your sister was with us when we got back to the hotel this morning. We need to know when we lost Doug." As an afterthought, he added, "Again."  
  
"Your smaller friend with the dark hair?" Off everyone's nod, the bum continued. "Yeah he kept complaining about being exhausted and you," he pointed at Stu, "were calling him a pussy." Stu frowned a little sheepishly at that. "That's when Tubs asked to pay me to fight him. Then Crazy Carl saw the fight, something snapped in his head again. Thought he was back in the war, I guess. He came at Tubs with a broken bottle and cut him across the chest." The bum pointed to Alan again. "Gave me the shirt off his back afterward even though he had blood all over it. I don't mind though. It's a nice shirt. I can find some stain remover and get it out." The bum opened his jacket to reveal the army green T-shirt with the cartoon chicken on it that Alan had been wearing the night before, except now there was a bloodied rip in it mirroring the same spot on Alan's chest where he'd been cut.  
  
"Did the other guy leave with us?" Sam asked, her hand on her lower back. It was already so sore from falling on it.  
  
Stu ― exhausted, angry, and at wit's end ― placed his hands on his hips and shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe Crazy Carl stabbed him too and threw him in the river."  
  
Alan immediately looked at Stu with a horrified expression. "Don't say that!"  
  
Looking between the foursome, the bum laughed a little. "Don't you remember _anything_ from last night?"  
  
"Not a thing since about nine-thirty last night," Phil answered.  
  
"Your smaller friend left with you. After Tubs got cut, you broke up the fight and I pulled Crazy Carl away," the bum spoke to Phil. "You were mentioning getting him back to the city to a hospital, but first you said you had to make a stop somewhere and put your smaller friend to bed." The last part was directed at Stu.  
  
Stu pointed to himself. "Me? Did I say where we were putting our friend to bed?"  
  
The bum shrugged. "No."  
  
"Awesome. Another dead end."  
  
"What time did we leave here?" Sam stepped forward, still holding her back. Phil saw this and placed his hand over hers, mouthing to her, asking if she was okay. She nodded her reply.  
  
The bum just let out a laugh. "Does it look like I own a watch, sweetheart?" With a shake of his head he walked up to Alan and held his arms out. "Thanks again for the money, Tubs." Alan seemed to forget all about the pain he was in and entered happily into a hug with the bum.  
  
"You're welcome again. Any time."  
  
"You wanna fight again, you know where to find me."  
  
"Okie dokie."  
  
The bum began to walk away and ushered Crazy Carl with him when the older bum looked ready to pounce on the foursome again. They were all left standing there, wondering what the hell just happened while once again trying to process the new information they were given.  
  


* * *

  
  
Twenty minutes later, they were back on the Brooklyn Bridge Pedestrian Walk, heading back into Manhattan. The sun was starting to set before them and a general sense of hopelessness was starting to set in. Stu and Alan walked side by side while Sam and Phil lagged behind. All four were a sight for sore eyes. They were bruised, bloodied, their clothes were a mess. They looked like they had gone to hell and back and the looks they were getting from other pedestrians walking in the opposite direction only confirmed as much.  
  
Phil looked to his right and could tell by the look on Sam's face that she was completely freaking out under the surface about what might have happened to her sister. She was holding it all in, but the way her lips pursed and her brow furrowed, suggested she was a moment away from an emotional breakdown. Like before, Phil threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for side hug as they walked along.  
  
"So, if I got you an engagement ring at some point last night and I proposed, where's the ring now?" he asked, looking down at her bare left hand.  
  
Sam lifted said hand and shrugged. "Yeah, I kinda wish I had it right now so I could shove it in my parent's face that I can get someone to propose to me. They'd see I'm not gonna be just the old maid sister compared to Amanda who does everything right in their eyes."  
  
"Well, you know, I could be your plus one to your sister's wedding if you'd like. We could tag team your parents with some grand story about our whirlwind love affair," Phil teased.  
  
"If there's a wedding at all. Can't have a wedding if a bride is missing."  
  
"Good point."  
  
Sam stopped walking and looked out at the East River to the right of them, looking upon the Manhattan Bridge and the general view around them. Phil stopped with her, the pair holding on to the railing and letting everything soak in. After a few feet, Stu turned back when he sensed Phil and Sam weren't behind him anymore. Walking up to them, he followed their gaze and looked out at the river. Alan quickly followed suit.  
  
The four of them just stood there; quiet, thinking, and admiring the view.  
  


* * *

  
  
After they made it across the bridge and back over to Manhattan, they headed toward Broadway to catch the N Line train. Sam had grabbed a map of the different train lines and schedules when they rode the subway earlier in the day, so they now knew the N Line train would bring them back to the Plaza Hotel at the 5th Avenue station.  
  
They figured heading back to the hotel might be a good idea. Maybe Doug and Amanda were back there. Maybe the security office had more footage they could show them.  
  
Sitting side by side, daydreaming, the foursome held their hands to their respective wounds when Phil's cell phone began to ring in his pocket. Pulling it out languidly, his eyes narrowed. He didn't recognize the number.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
_"Phil..."_  
  
The voice was garbled and distant. Phil could barely make it out. His bloodshot blue eyes widened. "Doug?" He leaned forward, plugging his opposite ear with a finger to better hear Doug on the other end of the line. "I can't hear you. You're breaking up. Hello?"  
  
_"Where...I'm in...it's..."_  
  
Stu, Sam and Alan each looked at Phil as he got only every second, third or fourth word. He couldn't tell.  
  
"I'm in a subway train, Doug. I can't here you."  
  
_"...phone..."_  
  
"What?"  
  
_"...phone...dying..."_  
  
"Phone's dying?" That Phil could make out more clearly. "Hey...Doug? You still there?"  
  
All during this difficult conversation, none of them noticed the young man in his late teens sitting across and diagonal to them, eyeing up the purse in Sam's lap. Distracted, they didn't notice him stand up or move at all until his hand grabbed the straps to the purse, yanked it off Sam's lap and ran with it. He took off down the center of the subway car, weaving through other riders. Sam was instantly on her feet.  
  
"Hey!" she shouted. No one other than Stu, Phil and Alan reacted to the thievery. The guys jumped up and followed Sam as she ran after the young thief.  
  
"I'll call you right back, Doug." Phil hung up and pulled the phone away from his ear, holding onto it tightly in his hand as he ran behind the others.  
  
They moved from the current subway car they were in through a door that connected to the second subway car; a momentary gust of wind whipping against them until they were inside. People got pushed out of the way, apologies were quickly muttered. The train came to a slowing stop as they reached the next station. A voice came over the PA system, announcing they were at the Times Square-42nd Street station.  
  
The thief moved through to the next car and out through the opening doors amidst the other passengers getting off at this stop. Sam, Stu, Alan and Phil, in that order, pushed a few people out of their way as they took off after the kid. He wove through the crowd of people waiting to get on the train and then up the stairs to head to street level. So many people were walking down the stairs that the foursome began to get pushed back a little, but they pushed forward to get through.  
  
When they made it to street level, they began to spin around, looking in every direction the teenage thief could've gone, but there were too many people around to spot him.  
  
" _Fucking cocksucker_!" Sam shouted, throwing her balled up fists down at her sides. A few people looked at her like she were a spastic idiot and she just glared back. "What are you looking at?" she antagonized. Phil came up beside her and placed a hand on the back of her head and she let herself whimper. "All my sister's IDs and credit cards were in that purse! _Amanda's_ purse! And her cell phone and my new EpiPen!"  
  
"Be extra careful to steer clear of peanuts this time," Alan warned, as if she was going to take that chance again.  
  
"Gee, ya think?"  
  
Alan frowned. "The teddy bear with the balloon I got you was in that purse, too," he added.  
  
"That's not important now, Alan." Stu spoke, trying to catch his breath. "Let's just walk the rest of the way to the hotel."  
  
They all hesitated for a moment as Sam leaned forward to take off her heels. "My feet are so sore. _Fuck_ these things," she grumbled, throwing them in the nearest trash can and starting to walk barefoot down the sidewalk with the guys.  
  
"You're gonna cut your feet on something," Phil commented, gesturing toward the ground.  
  
"I'm already so down right now, is the world really that cruel that it's going to kick me, too?"  
  
"No," he assured. He then gestured her over to him. "C'mere." She walked up to his side and he crouched down. "Climb on up."  
  
Sam chuckled and slapped his shoulder playfully. "Get outta here. You just got whacked across the back with a golf club by a crazy Vietnam vet bum. I'm not gonna get on your back and cause more pain."  
  
"Sam. Get on my back or I'll throw you over my shoulder." His tone was serious and she just smirked.  
  
"Promise you'll send me your chiropractor's bill," she joked, stepping behind him and throwing her arms around his neck.  
  
Phil placed his hands under her knees and hoisted her up as he stood up straight with Sam holding on for dear life. "Alright. Hotel."  
  
Stu just raised an eyebrow at the pair and shook his head as they began to walk again. "So, was that Doug on the phone?" he asked in regard to the call Phil received on the subway.  
  
"Yeah. But I couldn't make out what he was saying. Either the reception in the subway was bad or _his_ reception was. I think he said something about a phone dying." Phil turned his head a little, catching sight of Sam out the corner of his eye with her chin resting on his shoulder. Their faces were so close his nose brushed her cheek. "Maybe your sister doesn't have your phone but Doug does, 'cause I didn't recognize the number that came across. It had a 303 area code so it came from a Los Angeles phone number."  
  
"I guess," Sam muttered, rather enjoying the piggyback ride. She let her eyes close for a minute. She was tired, but also she was concentrating on the smell of Phil's skin, sweat and very latent hint of cologne. It was a nice mixture. The blood part, however, not so much.  
  
As they walked on through the evening Times Square madness, the foursome fell silent until Alan spoke up with something that he remembered at that moment.  
  
"We forgot about the bird."  
  
Stu turned to Alan and then back ahead of him. " _Fuck_ ," he grimaced.


	13. Birds Of Prey

Walking into the lobby of the Plaza Hotel was a humbling experience. Alan led the other three, holding a soft pretzel that he must've bought from a cart on the side of the road somewhere between Times Square and the hotel. Phil sauntered in next, letting Sam slide down his back so she could walk the rest of the way; the hotel floors were safe for her bare feet. Stu just staggered forward, bringing up the rear, catching the questioning glances of the other hotel guests checking in, walking out or just standing there doing whatever it was they were doing. As they passed the check-in area and started toward the direction of the bay of private elevators, one of the desk clerk's, the same female who had checked them in the night before, came scurrying over to them with a few small pieces of paper in her hand.  
  
"Excuse me," she called out, catching their attention. They turned to face her. "A few messages were left for you while you were out."  
  
"We got messages?" Stu repeated, confused, as Phil took the pieces of paper from her.  
  
They all looked over Phil's shoulder as he inspected the first note. "One is from Anthony, the security guy. It says: _Watched more footage. The blonde girl that came back with you, left again an hour later. Couldn't call, lost your number_."  
  
"What do the other messages say?" Sam asked, snatching the one about her sister out of Phil's hand.  
  
" _I want my bird back_."  
  
"Who's the message from?"  
  
"Billy?" Phil replied in question form. "Who the fuck is Billy?"  
  
"There's one more message, what's it say?" Stu pestered.  
  
" _I know you're staying at the Plaza. If I don't get my wife's ring back by tomorrow morning I'm gonna slit your little friend's throat. Bring the ring to the 86th floor Observatory Deck of the Empire State Building by 9 AM. Not a minute later. No cops_."  
  
Stu immediately began to freak. "Omigod, someone has Doug! They're gonna slit his throat!"  
  
Phil glared at Stu. "Shut up," he hissed. "You can freak out when we're upstairs in our suite and not in the middle of the lobby."  
  
"How can someone have Doug if he called you earlier?" Sam was confused. She was leading the way to their elevator and pressed the 'up' button. "You said he mentioned a phone dying."  
  
Phil frowned. "I heard him saying the words 'phone' and 'dying' but I don't know that he meant the phone he was talking on was dying. I only hope that's what he'd meant."  
  
"Well, if someone has him maybe they tried getting a hold of us to set up a rendezvous and put Doug on, but the reception was so bad we couldn't make out the real message."  
  
As soon as they were able to step into the elevator, and once the doors were closed and they were heading upward, Stu immediately screamed. It was like a volcano erupting lava all over, a pressure within needing to explode. His whole body shook as he bounced in place as if he really had to pee; the same way he did when they lost his teenage brother-in-law Teddy in Bangkok and they'd all thought Chow had overdosed or when Phil was shot by the Russian drug dealers. His movements caused the elevator to jerk a bit.  
  
"Doug's gonna get killed because you stole some bad guy's wife's ring and gave it to Sam! You did this!" Stu pointed at Phil, flashing crazy eyes.  
  
"Chill out, Stu!" Phil shouted back. "We'll go upstairs and find the ring and meet up with whoever it is at the Empire State Building tomorrow morning." When Stu didn't seem anywhere near backing down, Phil gave him a gentle shove to keep him out of his personal space. "The pieces are falling into place. Doug will be fine."  
  
Stu, pissed off, shoved Phil back.  
  
"Stop fighting!" Alan whined. "We're supposed to be best friends!"  
  
The elevator lurched with the jerky movement of Stu and Phil starting to slap fight each other, so Sam stepped between them, pressing her back to Stu's chest and pushing him back against one side of the elevator wall. She lifted her right leg and pressed it into Phil's gut to hold him at a distance. "Both of you chill the fuck out or I will castrate you both, here and now."  
  
Stu and Phil backed off and took in steadying breaths, glaring at each other. Phil grabbed Sam's foot and pushed it down off him.  
  
"We still have to find out who Billy is and how to get his macaw back to him," Sam continued. "Not to mention find my sister. So let's get to the suite, turn that fucking place even more upside down than it already is and find that goddamn, fucking ring and put our heads together. _Alright_?"  
  
All three men stared down at the firecracker that was Sam, each not able to help but admire how she laid the law with them. Just as the elevator doors dinged and slid open, Phil caught her eye; his heart racing from the adrenaline of arguing with Stu, the worry about Doug's predicament and his rapidly increasing, sexual attraction to Sam. As she looked up at him, her chest puffed to steady her own breathing. Being tossed into this kind of mess with all this testosterone was doing a number on her.  
  
Before any of them realized what was going on, Phil stepped forward and grabbed Sam with his hands on the sides of her face and crushed his lips down upon hers. Her hands were snaking up around his neck, her fingers tangling within his hair. The liplock was fierce and like a duel, one trying to best the other with who could kiss better. Quickly, Phil backed her out of the elevator and dropped his hands from her face to reach down and lift her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist.  
  
A moment later, the double doors into the suite's first foyer burst open. Phil and Sam were heavily going at it, with him carrying her further into the suite. Alan and Stu followed slowly behind them; Alan giggling like a child catching his parents kissing, while Stu staggered inside, possibly in a state of shock. He looked over his shoulder as if someone else was going to enter and explain what the hell just happened.  
  
Continuing from foyer to foyer, Phil winced a little as Sam bit down on his bottom lip, but immediately smiled against her mouth as they barreled into the master bedroom. Phil kicked the doors shut with the heel of his foot, turning to lock the door with his hand. He finally set Sam down to her feet and began to pulled his shirt off, throwing it somewhere to his left. His lips fell back to hers as she walked backwards toward the bed. Gracefully, he picked her up at her waist and threw her down onto the mattress, stalking up toward her like a bird of prey. As she pulled the dress up over her head, Phil climbed, shirtless, up onto the bed, smirking down at the sight of her in nothing but her bra and panties. Leaning down, he buried his face into the crook of her neck as Sam hooked her feet into the waistband of his pants, trying to shimmy them down off his hips.  
  
All the while, they were smiling and laughing in between kisses and touches here, there and everywhere.  
  


* * *

  
Alan and Stu were sitting on the ripped up sofa in the living room, just staring off at nothing in particular when they heard the sound of something heavy falling to the floor. The sound wafted from around the corner in the direction of the master bedroom. Stu jumped slightly, his eyes moving to the right then back ahead of him as he raised his eyebrows.  
  
"I think they're having sex," Alan commented; a little amused, a little perplexed.  
  
Stu turned his attention to the beardless man. " _Really_? What gave you that idea?"  
  
"Well, they were making out and now they're in the bedroom. And they're very loud."  
  
Stu just rolled his eyes. "We don't have time for this," he remarked, standing up. "Alan, start looking for that ring."  
  
"Shouldn't we wait till they're done and then we can all look together?"  
  
"Alan, just look." Stu walked over toward the dining room and crouched down under the table, pushing the red paint-stained teddy bear head out of the way, looking on the floor. He began to crawl around on his hands and knees all over the dining room while Alan stood up and turned around, pulling up the seat cushions to the sofa.  
  
"Ooh!"  
  
Stu stood up and looked over at Alan. "What? Did you find the ring already?"  
  
"No," Alan replied, holding up an unopened bag of Skittles and smiling. "Jackpot."  
  
"Focus, Alan." Stu shook his head and returned to looking for the ring.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Wow."  
  
Phil was laying on the bed, the only thing he wore was the bed sheet he had draped over his waist. The hair on his chest was matted down by a sheen of sweat upon it, glistening in the dark from the city lights and full moon shining in from outside the bedroom windows. The lights weren't on in the room because Phil and Sam hadn't bothered to turn any on. He had his left hand resting under his head while his right hand played with the strands of Sam's auburn locks as she laid sideways on the bed; her head on his stomach. She had the other part of the bed sheet draped over her body, covering her bits and pieces. She was holding the sheet to her chest with her left hand, her right snaked around his left leg.  
  
"Yeah," Sam agreed, her eyelids heavy from overall exhaustion and her current contentment. "That was―"  
  
"I know," Phil interjected, understanding what she was trying to say. "We were, like―"  
  
"Definitely."  
  
Sam turned her head to the left to look up at him as he looked down at her, the two of them smirking and letting out a laugh. Phil sat up and pulled her up as well, both still managing to keep covered by the bed sheet. Removing his hand from her mess of hair, he trailed his fingers down her spine until he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up against him. He cupped her face with his left hand and kissed her. This time the kiss was soft and sweet.  
  
He inhaled. "We need to find that ring. Doug, bad guys...your sister." His train of thought was choppy; the temptation to just ignore what they needed to do clouded by what he _wanted_ to do.  
  
"Right," Sam nodded, pulling her lips from his. She began to scoot off the bed, wrapping the sheet around her, pulling it off him in the process. "The ring."  
  
Phil followed her with his eyes as she crouched down, picking her bra, panties and her sister's pink dress up off the floor. She sauntered over to the walk-in closet and through toward the bathroom to change. Phil did the same, walking over to a chair in the corner where his boxer briefs were resting. Pulling them on, he found his pants and shirt, getting dressed again, and as he did so, his mind began to reel over how honestly content he felt. Not about the situation with Doug and Amanda and the insanity this weekend was bringing them, but with Sam. She was just fucking amazing. In more ways than one.  
  
Casting his eyes downward, he spotted something colorful on the floor, sticking out from underneath the dresser. Crouching down, he peered at it, pulling it out toward him. It looked to be a small piece of paper that had squares with perforated edges within it; several of the squares missing. Phil narrowed his gaze, making out Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse on a few of the squares that were all different colors; bright green, fuschia, yellow.  
  
Then it hit him.  
  
Phil began to remember something from the night before, from when he got up at one point after the toast at dinner to go to the bathroom. There'd been a guy in the bathroom he was talking to...  
  
Phil's eyes went wide as if he'd just seen a ghost. Standing upright he placed a hand to his mouth; his other hand holding onto the paper pieces. "Oh, fuck."  
  
"What's wrong?" Sam asked, exiting into the bedroom, dressed again in what she'd had on before.  
  
"Fuck," he repeated, ignoring her question and heading toward the bedroom doors.  
  
"Phil," she called after him as they both walked to the living room.  
  
As Alan and Stu looked over at the pair, Phil held the paper pieces up for them to see. "We took LSD last night."  
  
Stu furrowed his brow. "What?"  
  
Phil stepped closer to Stu and placed the paper pieces in his friend's hand. "This is LSD paper. I remember it from last night. We all had at least one piece each."  
  
Stu looked down at the thin paper, divided into decorative pieces with cartoon characters on them. "We took LSD?" he repeated Phil's statement. Off Phil's nod, he turned his attention to Alan and glared. "You gave us LSD, Alan? I _knew_ you drugged us! What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"  
  
Alan scoffed, offended. "I didn't do it, I swear! I mean, I don't _think_ I did. I don't remember buying any drugs." Alan began to doubt himself. "Oh, no! I swore on Joe Jonas' immortal soul! I've damned him to hell!" As he began to whimper, Phil walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"You didn't do anything, Alan."  
  
"I didn't?" he questioned, still unsure.  
  
"No," Phil insisted. " _I_ did it."  
  
Everyone looked at Phil as if they misheard him.  
  
"Wait, what?" Sam stepped closer.  
  
"I remember now," he began. "After we toasted at dinner, I went to the bathroom. There was this guy in there and I was in such a good mood and wanted to be in an even better one. I was looking for pot, actually. He looked like he might know where to score some. But he said he had something better." Phil caught Stu's glowering stare. "I didn't mean for us to get so fucked up and for all this to happen. The guy handed me this paper, said one piece would give a good trip. I gave him a fifty and he gave me this."  
  
Sam looked confused. "I don't remember taking any."  
  
"You..." Stu began, clenching his jaw. "After all the shit we'd been through with Alan drugging us in the past, what made you decide to do the same? Are you _fucking retarded_?"  
  
"I didn't know the effect was going to be that strong."  
  
"Have you ever taken LSD before, Phil?" Stu growled. "It's hallucinogenic. It makes you see and feel crazy shit. It can last twelve hours!"  
  
"I know that now."  
  
"So," Alan interrupted. "I didn't drug us?"  
  
"No, Alan. This time Phil fucked us over because this weekend he needed to get obliterated and take us down with him like a fucking selfish bastard, and now," Stu rattled angrily. "Doug is gonna be murdered because we can't find some damned ring he stole while tripping on fucking LSD!"  
  
"He couldn't have forced us to take it," Sam piped up in Phil's defense. "And we would've seen him trying to drop a square into our drinks. He would have had to broken the pieces off to give it to us. We must've done it willingly."  
  
"Of course you'll stick up for him," Stu sniggered. "He just fucked your brains out."  
  
Without warning, Sam slapped Stu very hard across his face and he took a few wavering steps backward. He hadn't been expecting Sam to hit him. Phil, maybe, but not Sam. He hadn't meant to insult her in any way, he was just so damned pissed.  
  
"I'm sticking up for him because he didn't force our hand. He didn't shove the shit down our throats," Sam explained, angrily. "We would have knowingly taken it. We just forgot about it."  
  
"We'll have flashbacks to last night eventually." Alan looked at the others. "It used to happen to me after I'd take ecstacy. I'd remember things a few days or weeks later at random times." He laughed at himself. "Like this one time when I shot my neighbor's cat..."  
  
Stu looked at Alan. "You are so fucking weird."  
  
"You're vulgar."  
  
At that moment, the scarlet macaw practically nosedived from the chandelier barely hanging from the ceiling and went right for Stu. It's talons gripping onto the top of his head as it bent its body forward to peck angrily at Stu's temple. Stu immediately jumped and began to scream like a girl, scared by the sudden swooping attack. The others jumped back in surprise while the macaw's wings flapped wildly.  
  
" _Omigod_! _Why does it keep attacking me_?" Stu screeched.  
  
Blood was appearing a Stu's temple, trickling down a couple drops at a time. Phil lunged forward to shove the bird off his friend, and was successful until it flew at him instead. Phil ducked and swatted at the bird, causing it to change directions. Sam whistled at it, stretching her arm out for it to perch as it had that morning. This time, however, it was too riled up and landed on her shoulder, pecking at her head. Sam let out a yelp and tried swatting at the macaw.  
  
"Ow, ow, ow, ow!" she cried.  
  
Alan and Phil both went to Sam's aid; Phil with his bare hands, Alan with one of the dozens of dildos that were still stuck to the wall beside the grand piano. Alan was the successful one. He hit the macaw in the side with the dildo, it cawed in pain or surprise and released its grip from Sam's shoulder and flew upward to perch on the chandelier once more.  
  
" _Fucking bird_!" Stu growled. He grabbed the dildo from Alan's hands and threw it at the macaw.  
  
He missed the macaw but made contact with the chandelier. The hit was just what the chandelier needed to finally cause it to fall. The wiring holding it up, snapped, and the entire fixture came crashing down onto one of the two coffee tables, shattering the glass with a resounding cacophony of sound.  
  
All four jumped at the noise, while ducking as the macaw flew over their heads and in the direction of one of the extra bedrooms.  
  
Phil turned and looked at Stu. "I can't believe these words are about to escape my mouth, but did you just throw a dildo at a bird?"  
  
"Yes," Stu nodded assertively, holding a hand to the side of his head. "Yes, I did."


	14. Piano Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stu's song in this chapter can be song to the tune of Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York".

Trepidatious notes resonated from the grand piano of the living room as Stu sat on its bench, his fingers plucking at the black and white keys. The melody he we starting to build to was faintly familiar to the other three, but he wasn't there yet. He was staring ahead at the corner where the two walls on either side of him met, dazed as if trying to think of something. Sam, was standing beside him with a wet cloth from one of the bathrooms in her hands as she dabbed the side of his head where the macaw had pecked mercilessly at him till he bled. He winced when she dabbed a little too hard at one point.  
  
"Sorry," she mumbled, pulling the cloth away.  
  
Behind both their backs, Phil and Alan were wandering around from room to room, turning over every object or piece of furniture, looking for the ring seemingly to no avail. Phil was actually doing the brunt of the searching. Alan was more just acting like Phil's shadow, mimicking every move and gesture and repeating the same thing Phil said, though a more watered down version as Phil dropped a lot of F-bombs along the way.  
  
As Sam began to wrap an ace bandage around Stu's head, the melody he was playing became more pronounced. He tilted his head back slightly and Sam altered the way she went about tightening the tan gauze, holding it in place with a small metal clasp.  
  
"It's happened again..." Stu began to sing. "We lost our friend...and my hygienist's sis," he looked at Sam out the corner of his eye, "in New York, New York."  
  
Sam smirked, stepping back to take a seat at one of the chairs between the destroyed sofas.  
  
"We took LSD...apparently," Stu continued, "because Phil's a douche! Not just in New York." This garnered a glowering look from Phil who stopped where he was in the archway between the second foyer and the living room, hands on his hips. Stu didn't see this and went about his song. "I wanna wake up in a city, without a blackout...or get attacked by a bum...or a macaw."  
  
This time he threw a look over his shoulder to Sam who just gave a nod of agreement. He turned back around.  
  
"I'm tired of this shit," he sang with an exasperated sigh in his voice. "Getting beat, getting hit. I need to stop going away with friends...on lost weekends." Phil moved closer into the living room to listen to the song. "What's wrong with Alan and Phil? Why do they slip us drugs and pills? Next time I'm staying home...back in LA..."  
  
Stu ended the song abruptly after a few extra notes. He then slouched forward and turned around on the bench. Sam smirked and brought her hands up to clap for him. "Bravisima!" she cheered like some Italian patron of the arts.  
  
Stu just smiled in return and pointed to his bandage. "Thanks."  
  
"Welcome," Sam replied as Alan came running into the living room, slipping on the floor's smooth surface with his socks and almost falling forward but catching himself in time. He was waving a Polaroid in his hand and a huge grin was plastered on his face. "What is that?" Sam asked.  
  
"A picture," Alan replied, handing it over to her.  
  
Sam's eyes immediately widened with disbelief and delighted awe. "Holy shitballs," she exclaimed to which Stu threw her a questioning though amused gaze at her choice of expletive. "Alan, this is you and Billy _fucking_ Joel!" She held the photo up, the back of the Polaroid facing her so that Phil could see as he moved closer to get a better look. She then turned it slightly so Stu could see as well.  
  
"Wow, you're right," Stu commented. "When did we meet Billy Joel?"  
  
"It was here," Phil said as he peered with narrowed eyes, pointing at something in the photo. "That's the piano behind them."  
  
"Are you sure?" Stu asked, giving it a second look.  
  
Phil nodded. "Yeah. See the dildos on the wall."  
  
"Oh yeah."  
  
"So, we partied with Billy Joel last night? How cool is that?" Sam was grinning now.  
  
"I wish I could remember it," Alan remarked. "He's my favorite musician."  
  
"I thought the Jonas Brothers were your favorite, Alan?" Stu questioned with a chuckle.  
  
Alan's face became quite serious. "They're my favorite _band_ ," he corrected. "Billy Joel is my favorite solo musician."  
  
"He does have the large poster of 'Glass Houses' on his bedroom wall," Phil contributed.  
  
Stu turned and stared up at Phil. "How is it you can remember _that_ but you couldn't remember supplying us with LSD? Selective memory or something?"  
  
Sam interrupted. "Well, I guess this solves the mystery of who Billy from the message is. Must be his macaw we have." She handed the Polaroid back to Alan, who took it happily, holding it against his chest like a toddler does with its teddy bear. "How we wrangle it up and get it back to its master is beyond me, though."  
  
"Yeah, we don't exactly have Billy Joel on speed dial, do we?" Stu put forth as his expression quickly changed. "Or do we?" The other three looked at him. "Phil, Alan...check your cell phones. Maybe he gave you his number last night."  
  
Alan and Phil took their cell phones out of their pockets and began to scroll through the address books. Phil shook his head after a few moments.  
  
"I got nothing," he replied, pocketing his phone again. "Al?"  
  
With the hand still holding onto the Polaroid, Alan held up his index finger at Phil. "Hold on." On further inspection, he began to smile, turning his eyes upward to meet the awaiting gazes from Stu, Phil and Sam.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Okay, so we just gotta get this bird into...something...and take it to Billy Joel's house in Sag Harbor. He gave Alan his address and it's two, two and a half hours away by car?" Phil questioned, reiterating the beginnings of their plan of attack. He looked at Sam for confirmation about the time it would take to get there. _She_ was the native Long Islander, not them.  
  
"Sounds about right," she nodded.  
  
They were all sitting around the dining room table, looking from one to the other. "It's..." Phil looked at his watch, continuing. "It's a little after midnight. If we leave now, we'll get there between two thirty and three," he sighed.  
  
"And we still haven't found the ring yet," Sam mentioned, subconsciously touching her left ring finger. She wished she knew what it looked like. It would make searching for it a hell of a lot easier.  
  
"And," Stu added, "we have to be to the top of the Empire State Building with it by nine on the dot or Doug gets killed."  
  
Phil leaned forward on the table, head in hands. He let out a slight groan of frustration, ran his fingers down his face and looked back up. "Okay, we gotta figure something out," he spoke. "Say, we get to Billy Joel's house by three at the latest, we're there maybe a half hour at most...we leave as soon as possible and get back here by five, five-thirty, six? That gives us three hours to look for the ring, turn this place over even more, top to bottom." He looked around the table at the other three, waiting for agreement on this plan.  
  
"What do we use to transport the macaw?" Sam asked, the only one of the four to refer to it by its technical name.  
  
"A suitcase?" Alan suggested.  
  
Phil looked at the pudgy man. "That's not a bad idea."  
  
"Won't the bird suffocate?" Stu questioned, a little unsure.  
  
"Considering it pecked the fuck out of your head, not once but twice, and drew blood, I wouldn't think you'd care either way."  
  
"I care about pissing off Billy Joel and him suing us for avicide."  
  
"We can cut holes into the suitcase then," Sam offered. She looked between the three men. "Who's willing to cut holes into their suitcase?"  
  
"Not it," Phil quickly said, holding his hands up and leaning back in his chair. Sam shot him a withering look which he shrugged at.  
  
"Well, my things are at my parent's house on Long Island as I wasn't supposed to be here in the first place," Sam continued, taking her gaze away from Phil for the moment.  
  
"I still can't find mine," Alan commented.  
  
They all turned their attention to Stu who began to protest almost immediately when he realized they were looking at him. "Wait...uh, no. I am not going to cut up my suitcase for some bird! No way."  
  
"But it's not just _any_ bird, Stu," Phil smirked teasingly. "It's _Billy Joel's_ , the fucking piano man. And you said it yourself, you don't want him to sue us for killing his bird if it suffocates in the suitcase."  
  
"Why don't we use _yours_ then?"  
  
"Mine's not big enough. I packed light. You packed like you were going away on vacation for two weeks. The bird will have more room in yours. And it only needs a few holes. Small ones. Enough for air to pass through."  
  
Stu pursed his lips, angry that he was being subjected to sacrificing up his belongings for the sake of a devil bird. "How am I supposed to pack my things to go home?"  
  
"We'll get you a new suitcase before we leave," Phil assured, giving his friend a slap to the arm.  
  
"But my suitcase matches the rest of my luggage at home. It's part of a set."  
  
"Dude," Phil made a face. "Don't be gay."  
  
Looking from Phil to Sam, Sam to Alan, then back to Phil, Stu eventually let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine!" he caved, throwing his hands up in the air, pushing his chair back and standing up. "But I'm not going to catch that damn devil bird. One of you three can."  
  


* * *

  
  
After forty minutes of chasing the scarlet macaw around the suite or trying to call to it soothingly, Phil, Alan and Sam were able to coax it down from on top of one of the window treatments in the extra bedroom furthest away from the living room. Sam winced as she held her arm out and called to it. They lucked out that the macaw had decided to calm down and trust her again as it flapped its wings and flew to her, perching on her wrist. Phil and Alan had since dumped all of Stu's clothing out of his suitcase, took a butcher knife from the pantry and cut wide gashes into it. With the macaw on Sam's wrist, Phil and Alan carefully came up from behind her with the suitcase open. Sam took a few steps back to meet them halfway. Quickly, Alan reached out a hand and shoved the bird into the suitcase. The macaw began to go wild again but Phil was just as quick to close the suitcase and zip it up. The suitcase shook in his grip as the macaw flapped around inside, squawking in fright and anger.  
  
Shortly thereafter, the quartet made it down to the lobby of the Plaza with the suitcase. The macaw seemed to have calmed down a bit, with only the occasional squawk as they moved. They headed outside and hailed a cab with help from the doorman. Sam slid into the backseat while Alan once again took to sitting up front with the driver. Phil asked the driver to pop the trunk for the suitcase, to which Stu just looked at Phil.  
  
"You're going to put it in the trunk?"  
  
"You want to explain to the driver why your suitcase is making noises if we keep it in the backseat with us?"  
  
Stu shook his head and gave in. "No."  
  
"Well, then...shut up."  
  
The trunk popped open and Phil dropped the suitcase in, not as gently as he probably could have. The macaw began to squawk again and Stu threw him a look.  
  
"Careful. That's a live animal in there."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
Phil pushed past Stu to slide into the cab and take the spot in the middle next to Sam. Stu hopped in next, closing the door. When the driver asked where to, Alan gave him the address to Billy Joel's house in Sag Harbor on Long Island. The driver made mention to it being quite the drive they had ahead of them, and Phil pressed they needed to get there as quick as possible.  
  
The first half hour they all rode in silence, save for the Bollywood music wafting from the driver's radio. As the first hour was nearing its close, Phil had moved his left arm around Sam's shoulder and subconsciously began to play with the strands of hair laying on her shoulder. Alan was talking to the driver about something or another as Stu just stared out his window, his elbow on the arm rest of the door and his head in his hand. As the second hour rolled along, the three in the backseat had fallen asleep. Stu's head was tilted back, his mouth open as he snored lightly. Sam was leaning into Phil, her head on his shoulder and his head on hers. His left arm was still around her shoulder but his right hand was holding her right hand in his lap.  
  
Eventually, at about three-thirty, the cab came to a stop; the casual lurch from the ceasing of movement jerked Stu, Phil and Sam awake. Alan gave the driver his credit card to pay the fare plus tip. As they all slid out of the cab, the driver popped the trunk for them and Phil grabbed the suitcase out with a yawn. The macaw began to move around inside the suitcase again and only squawked a couple of times. Once the trunk was closed, the cab pulled away, with Stu making mention that they should've asked the cabbie to stay. The foursome looked up at the brown, Shingle style home and made their way, tiredly, toward the front door. Stu stepped in front of the others and rang the doorbell.  
  
As they stood there waiting, eventually they heard the lock on the door being undone and the door swung open, reavealing Billy Joel standing there in a pair of boxers, a T-shirt and a robe. "Took you long enough. Where's Ruby?"  
  
After the initial shock of being greeted by Billy Joel dressed as he was, Phil held up the suitcase which squawked once. "In here."  
  
Billy Joel looked the suitcase over, noticing the gashes and minor holes. "Is she alright?"  
  
"Well, she put up a good fight on several occasions," Stu remarked, gesturing to his bandaged head.  
  
Billy Joel looked up and laughed. "Hah, yeah...she's a bit temperamental." He grabbed the suitcase from Phil's hands and then gestured for the foursome to follow him in. "C'mon in."  
  
Sam was the last inside, so she shut the door, casually taking in the interior. She looked over at Phil and could barely contain her glee. They were in Billy Joel's house! Phil wasn't even thinking about what he did next. It was something he had always done with Stephanie so perhaps it was just force of habit. Casually, his hand slipped into her hand; his fingers curling around her fingers. Sam dropped her gaze down to their hands and for a minute she didn't register anything odd about it. When it finally hit her, she realized it didn't feel odd at all. It felt kind of natural, like they'd been holding hands for years.  
  
The foursome followed Billy Joel into the family room where he sat down on an overstuffed couch and went about unzipping the suitcase. Ruby, the macaw, flew out in an isntant, but as soon as it recognized where it was and saw its master, it flew to him and perched on the cushion beside him. Billy Joel peered into the suitcase and handed it back over to the foursome with a smirk.  
  
"You literally scared the shit out of Ruby." Sure enough, the inside had a few spots of drying bird shit. Stu grimaced as he took the suitcase back. "Sit down," Billy Joel offered, gesturing to the other overstuffed couch and a few chairs.  
  
Stu took a seat in one of the chairs, the suitcase beside him, while Phil stepped aside for Sam to head over to the second overstuffed couch and take a seat. He released her hand from his and then sat down beside her. Alan, on the other hand, got distracted and was walking around the outer perimeter of the room, pointing at a grouping of six Grammy Awards on the mantle above the fireplace.  
  
"Are these real Grammy Awards?" Alan asked.  
  
Billy Joel turned his gaze toward Alan and nodded with a smile. "Yep."  
  
Alan peered closer at one of them. " _Best Rock Vocal Performance, Male, 1981_. Ooh, for 'Glass Houses.' That's my favorite album."  
  
"Yeah, you told me that last night."  
  
Phil leaned forward, pressing his hands together like he was greeting the Dalai Lama. "About that," he began. "We took LSD last night and can't remember anything we did afterward. We've spent all day trying to piece together what happened and how we lost two of our friends in the process."  
  
"Did you find them?"  
  
Stu shook his head. "Our friend Doug is being held hostage because Phil stole a ring from some bad guy's wife," he interjected.  
  
Billy Joel's eyes widened in amusement. "Seriously?" Off everyone's nod, "Wow. That's fucked up."  
  
"Tell us about it," Alan sang to the tune of Billy Joel's song 'Tell Her About It'. He walked over to sit down on the other side of Sam on the couch.  
  
Stu just threw Alan a look before turning his attention back to the musician. "If we don't find the ring and get to the top of the Empire State Building with it by nine, Doug's dead."  
  
"Did you try the police?" Billy Joel asked.  
  
"We were told no cops, plus we don't even know who has Doug. I doubt the police could help. We just gotta hope like hell we find that ring." Phil dropped his hands between his knees and looked over to Sam. He gestured to her with his thumb. "And her sister's getting married in about twelve hours and we have no idea where she is either. She left the Plaza an hour after we got back there from parts unknown. She left her phone behind, her purse...we think she took Sam's purse and phone by mistake. Their mom has no idea we lost her too. We have no idea where she could be or why she hasn't been able to make contact with us or her family."  
  
"Maybe she took off on purpose," Billy Joel offered, making kissy faces at his macaw. "Cold feet set in early and she doesn't want to be found."  
  
Sam shook her head. "My sister's not like that. She's very responsible, the perfect daughter and she's been looking forward to her wedding day for years. It means a lot to her. She wouldn't intentionally miss it."  
  
"Well, that sucks then. Wish there was something I could do to help all of ya."  
  
They all fell silent, the foursome looking at each other and then back to Billy Joel.  
  
"You might not be able to help us with our other problem but could you maybe tell us how we ended up with your bird? Alan found a Polaroid of you and him in our hotel suite from some time last night. How did we meet you?" Stu was deeply curious.  
  
"We were at the same restaurant. I was leaving around the same time as all of you." He pointed to Stu. "You asked if you could buy me a drink and if I would say hi to your friends. I figured why not. I walked over and joined your table for a few minutes. We got talking and Alan asked if I wanted to come party with the rest of you." Alan snickered happily at the memory he had no memory of. "I said I had to go check on my bird Ruby. My daughter Alexa had been watching her for me. I just got back into town yesterday from a vacation to Jamaica." He looked at Phil. "You said you were all going to buy some beer and liquor first. You said I could show up when I could, to bring Ruby with me if I wanted. It had been a very long time since anyone wanted to party with me, so I decided what the hell."  
  
"So, you partied with us?" Sam asked rhetorically. "Man, I wish I remembered that."  
  
"You were all wild, a lot of fun. Made me miss my more youthful years when I could party like that all night long."  
  
"How come we still had your bird when we woke up this morning?" Phil asked.  
  
"I left after about an hour and a half, just forgot Ruby. I was halfway home when I remembered. By the time I turned back and got to your suite at the Plaza, no one was there. I knocked on the door and rang the bell. It was quiet, no music or noise. I couldn't tell if you all fell asleep or left or what."  
  
Stu nodded and looked to Phil. "That's when we left to get on the subway." He looked back at Billy Joel. "Sorry about that."  
  
Billy Joel shrugged. "Eh, it's alright. I knew Ruby would be fine." He then chuckled and pointed to Stu's head. "I take it she was able to take care of herself."  
  
Stu frowned and touched his hand to his ace bandage. "She's very vicious."  
  
"Well," Phil spoke, standing up. "Thanks for clearing up how we got the bird, and inviting us into your home and, uh...partying with us last night." He smirked. "But we really need to get back to our hotel."  
  
The others slowly got to their feet and Billy Joel followed suit. "Thanks for not killing my bird," he replied offering his hand for Phil to shake. He shook Stu and then Sam's hands next. Alan walked over and hugged him. Billy Joel just patted Alan briefly on the back and then pulled himself away.  
  
"It was a pleasure to meet you," Sam gushed, smiling.  
  
"Likewise." As he walked the foursome to the door, he placed his hand on the doorframe and watched as they all filed out one by one. "Good luck finding that ring and your friends."  
  
They waved goodbye and after Billy Joel shut the door behind them, they all looked at each other. Phil had once again slipped his hand into Sam's and looked back toward the house with an impressed expression on his face.  
  
"I can't believe how nice he was. So personable."  
  
Stu nodded. "I know. I'm really glad we didn't kill his bird now."  
  
"And how great is it that his house isn't so closed off like the typical celebrity homes you'd find in LA? His house sits on the corner of two streets, just like any other house."  
  
Phil agreed with a nod of his own. "Like he's your average suburbanite."  
  
They looked from one to the other again, and then to the right. Bay Street was the street that ran perpindicular with Billy Joel's street. Across Bay Street was a small marina. The waters glistened in the moonlight, lapping at the sides of the boats docked there. There was no traffic at that early in the morning, so the sound of the water coming from Sag Harbor Bay, from that many yards away, was rather easy to hear.  
  
"Okay, well...we should probably call a cab," Sam commented, breaking herself and the other three out of the reverie of just meeting Billy Joel.


	15. We Are So Screwed

During the entire drive back into the city all the way from the Sag Harbor, the foursome could not fall asleep. Maybe the usual suspects in the backseat had gotten their second wind from the hour long nap on the drive to Sag Harbor or maybe they were all just wired from having met Billy Joel. The third option was that they were very intent on finding the ring and coming to Doug's rescue.  
  
An hour into their trek toward Manhattan, the sun began to rise. The sky was no longer black or dark blue, the moon was starting to fade from view. Instead the sky was turning a dark shade of purple to pinks and oranges as the rays of sunlight scattered about. Phil looked over his shoulder, the light catching his blue eyes as he watched the traffic following behind them, heading in the same direction. As he turned his attention back to the others, he began to realize something.  
  
All this while they had been more focused on finding Doug that they hadn't truly gone about putting together the pieces of where Sam's sister Amanda had gone off to other that they now knew she left the hotel around seven the previous morning, nearly twenty four hours before. He began to wonder how it was Sam was able to keep her shit together and focus on the guys' need to find their friend; keeping them centered when they started to go ape shit on one another. Her sister was getting married within eight hours' time and she was still AWOL. Billy Joel had posed an interesting scenario of Amanda just taking off because of cold feet, but Sam had debunked it, insisting her sister would never do that.  
  
Phil brought the arm he once again had around Sam's shoulder up so that he could run his fingers into the hair on the back of her head before leaving them there to get her attention in a soothing way. Sam shifted her eyes away from the daybreak scenery passing them by to meet Phil's gaze.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"How are you holding up?" he asked, removing his fingers from behind her head to push some strands away from the side of her face.  
  
"Fine," she replied with a shrug and a ghost of a smile.  
  
"Now, come on. We both know that when a woman says she's fine it means something horrible is brewing underneath the surface," he quipped. "On a scale from one to ten, how worried are you about your sister? Honestly."  
  
Sam momentarily knitted her eyebrows together and she frowned. "Eleven."  
  
Phil nodded, understanding. "I figured." He lowered his hand down to give hers a squeeze. "You're pretty good at keeping what you're really thinking and feeling to yourself."  
  
"Years of practice."  
  
"It's been about twenty four hours since she's been missing. Do you wanna call the police when we get back to the hotel and see if she's turned up in any way?"  
  
Stu picked up on the conversation and turned his head toward the pair. His eyes saddened. "Sam, I'm sorry. I keep forgetting your sister's missing, too."  
  
Sam leaned forward to look at Stu beside Phil. "It's okay," she lied, blatantly. "The threat of Doug being murdered is more dire and takes precedence. I just don't know how to explain this to my family if I can't find out where Amanda is in time. My parents will very likely find some way to blame me."  
  
"Maybe we should split up?" Alan suggested from the front seat beside the driver. "Stu and I can look for the ring and you and Phil can go to the police station."  
  
Sam couldn't help it. She smiled. Leaning forward again, she reached a hand over the front seat and touched it down upon Alan's shoulder. "That's really nice of you to offer, Alan, but I can't let the two of you look for the ring by yourselves."  
  
"No," Phil insisted. "Alan's right. It's not fair that we focus only on Doug. I mean, he's our best friend and we're worried about his well being, but at least we have a lead on him. I'll come with you to the police station and we'll file a report or whatever we need to do. Okay?"  
  
Removing her hand from Alan's shoulder, Sam looked up at Phil and smirked. She wasn't going to argue against looking into her sister's whereabouts any further. "Okay," she nodded.  
  


* * *

  
  
The closest police station to the Plaza Hotel coming from Long Island was the 17th Precinct on East 51st Street. The taxi cab dropped Phil and Sam off in front, with Stu letting the pair know they would keep in touch with their respective searches by way of Phil's cell phone and Alan's cell phone and that no matter what, they would meet up at the entrance of the Empire State Building by eight-thirty, which gave both pairs only two hours.  
  
Phil held the door open for Sam as she walked inside of the station and giving a nod of his head to an officer in uniform heading outside mostly likely to his patrol car. They stepped into the lobby, walking up to a desk where a drunk man was trying to report his bike being stolen to a female officer behind the desk. She was feigning concern, trying to hold a civil tone while telling him they, being the police, would see what they could do to help him. When it was their turn, Phil and Sam leaned on the desk.  
  
"How can I help you?" asked the officer, a voluptuous black woman whose name tag stated her surname to be Brady.  
  
"My sister went missing twenty four hours ago and my family and I can't get a hold of her. She's supposed to get married by two today. She wouldn't just take off and I'm really worried," Sam rambled.  
  
"What's your sister's name?"  
  
"Amanda Simmons. Dr. Amanda Simmons, actually."  
  
"What time did she go missing and where was the last place anyone saw her?"  
  
"About seven yesterday morning, she was seen on a security camera at the Plaza Hotel leaving the lobby."  
  
"Do you have a picture?"  
  
Phil looked at Sam who looked down and then remembered she had no purse, which meant no phone or wallet to offer up a photograph. She shook her head. "No, my purse was stolen last night on the subway. Actually, it was my sister's purse. I think she might've taken mine by mistake before she left the hotel. They look similar."  
  
Officer Brady frowned and sat back in her chair at the desk. "What are your names?"  
  
"Samantha Simmons," Sam replied.  
  
"Phil Wenneck," Phil offered up.  
  
"I'm gonna have a detective come speak to you, okay?" Officer Brady looked between the two of them with a no-nonsense expression on her already stern face. "Just have a seat over there."  
  
"Wha―okay." Sam nodded and looked to Phil as they both glanced over to an area off to the side where there were a few rows of chairs, much like a hospital waiting room.  
  
Phil took her hand in his and they sat down next to each other. "A detective is gonna see us. That's sounds promising, right? Means they're taking our situation seriously."  
  
"Should we mention the thing with Doug?" Sam wondered, looking at him.  
  
He shook his head immediately. "Oh no. Last thing we need is to explain to New York City cops about how I stole an expensive ring and Doug is being held hostage with the threat of death by some unknown bad guy. We can't even identify who has him. The cops will just think we're making shit up."  
  
Sam sank back in her chair, slouching her posture. "This sucks."  
  


* * *

  
  
"This sucks," Stu complained, tearing the comforter and sheets off the bed in the suite's master bedroom. Alan was on his hands and knees, his body halfway into the closet, combing over every inch of the floor. "We don't even know what the ring looks like."  
  
"Well, let's think like a woman," Alan commented.  
  
Stu looked down at a spot on the sheet he was handling and cringed at whatever he'd seen, letting it fall to the floor at his feet. "Think like a woman?" he repeated with skepticism in his voice.  
  
"If you were a woman, wearing a big ring on your finger and you just got engaged, where would you put it for safe keeping when you take it off?"  
  
Standing in place, Stu stared off for a moment while Alan got to his feet, albeit with some struggle due in part to the problem that was his gut. Slowly, Stu looked around the room for a few moments before an idea set in. His eyes widening, "The wall safe!"  
  
Stu took off like a bat out of hell and headed straight to the study. He didn't know where the wall safe was but he knew every hotel room or suite had one and he figured it would be located in the study in their suite. Fortunately he was right. On the wall opposite from the desk, there was a portrait of some 18th century nobleman that happened to swing open like a door to reveal a wall safe behind it.  
  
"Found it!" Stu called out with a victorious chuckle.  
  
Alan came sauntering in and moved to stand beside Stu. "Well? Open it."  
  
Stu frowned. "I don't know the combination."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Alan pushed Stu out of the way. "Let me, then."  
  
Stu staggered backward and scoffed at Alan. "How do you expect to open a wall safe without a combination? Those things are built for safety. There's not even a knob to twist around. It's all digital."  
  
Without missing a beat, Alan came back with, "I've cracked open plenty of safes before. It's a piece of cake."  
  
Stu made a face like he didn't even want to know how Alan was savvy on cracking open secure safes. He just watched as Alan pulled over the chair in the corner and stood on it to be eye level with the number pad that looked like a simple calculator. Alan just stared at the combination pad as if willing the safe to open on its own. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration as his eyes glazed over. Stu stepped to the side to look at Alan's face, confused and curious.  
  
"I got it," Alan muttered after what felt like forever. He began to press very specific numbers: 9 6 5 8 3 7. Without hesitation, Alan pulled the safe door open with no trouble at all.  
  
"What the hell?" Stu remarked with a laugh. "How did you do that? And how did you know it was those numbers?"  
  
Alan turned around and smiled. "This is your basic 6-digit PIN code safe. And those numbers spell out 'wolves' on the keypad. I just remembered using this last night."  
  
"We put something in there? Was it the ring?" Stu asked, trying to peer around Alan.  
  
Reaching in, Alan grabbed a hold of something and pulled it out. As he turned to Stu, he shook his head but was smiling. "No ring, but hey...now I know my mixed CDs are okay."  
  
In Alan's hands were about six clear jewel cases with gold CDs, scribbled on with a black Sharpie. Stu's impressed expression faded to that of disdain.  
  
"You're such a dumbass, Alan."  
  


* * *

  
  
"Samantha Simmons, Phil Wenneck?"  
  
Sam and Phil's heads snapped up toward the direction of a voice calling their names. A man in dress navy dress slacks, gray dress shirt, navy blazer and tacky neck tie stood a few feet away, scanning the heads of the people waiting around the lobby for police assistance. The pair stood up and stepped over to the man.  
  
"That's us," Phil informed, gesturing between himself and her. "I'm Phil Wenneck, she's Samantha Simmons."  
  
"I'm Detective Contello, come with me."  
  
Sam looked warily up at Phil who gave her a more reassuring gaze. He nodded for them to follow the detective through to several corridors before coming upon what looked to be a squad room. Detective Contello stepped around to a table at the front of the room and sat down at a chair on one side of it while gesturing to the two seats on the other side.  
  
"Have a seat." Phil and Sam obliged, watching as Detective Contello looked over a form in his hands. "So, it says here your sister went missing yesterday morning at seven, correct?" he asked, looking to Sam. She nodded and he continued. "What hotel was it she left?"  
  
"The Plaza," Sam answered.  
  
"Did she seem upset when she left? Was she showing any signs of odd behavior? Officer Brady wrote down that you said she's getting married today. Do you think she might've just took off because she was having second thoughts?"  
  
Sam shook her head adamantly. "My sister and I have never been particularly close but I know she's been looking forward to her wedding day for years. She was gushing about how happy she was at the rehearsal dinner on Friday."  
  
"We don't know how she was when she left," Phil added. "We partied pretty hard the night before and were asleep by the time she'd left."  
  
"I understand you and your sister mixed up your purses, therefore your IDs, too, I assume?"  
  
Sam nodded. "Our purses are similar. I think Amanda took mine by mistake. I had hers with me until last night when it got stolen on the subway. It had her information, cell phone, everything. She couldn't call me on her phone now if she wanted with my phone even if she has it. My mom can't either which I guess is a blessing. I don't need to hear my mom rake me over the coals about how Amanda's missing on her wedding day."  
  
Detective Contello simply smirked. "Can you tell me what she looks like, what she was wearing the last time you saw her? We'll put out an APB for her, and check our systems to see if she's been picked up for anything. If she has your ID with her and a cop asked her for identification and didn't have hers but someone else's, she might've been brought in on suspicion of theft. She could be in a holding cell in one of our precincts."  
  
It wasn't an ideal situation but it was better than Amanda being missing. This way she would be safe somewhere and easily rescued, for a lack of a better word.  
  
"She looks a bit like me, obviously. Sisters and all," Sam began. "But she's blonde. Natural blonde, not bottle. Um, green eyes, some freckles like me, but not as many as me. She's about five foot four, thin...she's twenty-seven years old..."  
  
"What was she wearing?" Detective Contello asked again.  
  
"My dress, actually. We got pretty drunk and at some point also switched outfits. This is her dress," Sam picked at the tight pink dress she was still wearing. "She'd be wearing my dress. It's royal blue, knee-length, thick straps."  
  
"Does your sister have any distinctive scars or tattoos?"  
  
Sam shrugged. "I don't think she has any tattoos, but she does have a scar on her abdomen from getting her appendix out when she was fourteen." She frowned deeply. She knew what it was meant by asking for scars or tattoos. It was to help identify a body if the person was deceased and without any ID on them.  
  
Detective Contello was writing all this information down. When he finished, he looked up at Sam and clicked his pen closed. "Alright, I think I got every thing I can use. I'll go put her name out there and see if I get any hits, by our system or by any of the officers on the streets. Is there a number I can reach you by?"  
  
Phil nodded and rattled off his area code and phone number to the detective who raised one of his eyebrows. "What area code is that?"  
  
"310? It's Los Angeles."  
  
"Ah, so you're out-of-towners."  
  
"Well, I am," Phil answered. "She is too, to an extent."  
  
"I'm from Long Island, originally. Moved to California for college many moons ago," Sam added.  
  
Detective Contello smiled and stood up. The pair did the same. "Okay, well, I'll do what I can to help find your sister. In the meantime, go back to your hotel room and get some rest. You both look like shit."  
  
"Feel like it, too," Phil smirked.  
  
"You two remember the way you came in here? Can you find your way out?"  
  
Both nodded and parted ways with the detective. Phil once more slipped his hand into Sam's hand and walked with her from corridor to corridor until they were in the lobby once more. As they exited out onto the street, they stopped dead on a sidewalk and looked both ways, completely lost at the moment. Not physically, just emotionally and mentally. Phil took his free hand and ran it down his face and then back up to run his fingers through his hair. He blinked a few times to wake himself up a bit more as Sam seemed to be doing the same.  
  
"How about we grab some coffee?" Phil asked. "Then we should just make our way toward the Empire State Building. By the time we would get back to the hotel, Stu and Alan would probably have already left."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Phil and Sam turned right, heading in the direction of 5th Avenue to find the nearest Starbucks.  
  


* * *

  
  
"We are so royally fucked."  
  
Alan looked at Stu who he was sitting beside in the backseat of a cab en route to the Empire State Building. "Maybe we can just buy another ring for the bad man who has Doug."  
  
Stu stared wild-eyed at Alan, his jaw clenched. "Maybe you should just shut up, _hmm_?"  
  
Alan frowned. "Well, you don't have to be mean. It was just a suggestion. And I'd like to remind you this time the blackout wasn't my fault so stop taking it out on me like it was."  
  
"I'm not blaming you for the blackout. I know now it was Phil who's responsible." Stu leaned back, taking his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "You're just really annoying most of the time."  
  
"As long as you understand I'm not responsible for the blackout," Alan repeated, somehow satisfied with Stu's response.  
  
Stu simply turned his head and looked back at the other man, completely dumbfounded at how odd he was and how he could be so calm and collected at a time like this, when there were more dire things at hand. "How are you not freaking out like I am?"  
  
Alan shrugged. "Crazy moments don't bother me," he answered. "It's the boring ones that make me nervous."  
  
Considering this, Stu could actually see how that would make sense. Some people thrived for chaos and downtime made them jittery. He had an uncle once who could never sit still during formal moments...like his cousin's wedding ceremony ten years earlier where he shifted around in his pew and tried to carry on conversations during he vows. When it came time for the reception, he sat back and watched the world go by, becoming a spectator.  
  
Within five more minutes, the taxi cab pulled up in front of the Empire State Building and Stu leaned forward, peering out his window. He saw Phil and Sam standing outside the entrance with Starbucks coffees in their hand. Phil had his sunglasses over his eyes and Sam had a matching pair of Aviators over hers that were a darker shade lens than Phil's. Alan paid for fare and tip as they slid out of the backseat and greeted the other pair.  
  
"Any luck finding your sister?" Stu asked immediately, looking to Sam.  
  
She shrugged but also shook her head. "We got to speak to a detective who was gonna put an APB out and look through their files or database or whatever it is to see if maybe she was picked up at all. There's a small chance she could be sitting in a cell somewhere as a Jane Doe." Sam gave a second shrug. "Here's hoping." She took a sip of her coffee.  
  
"Any luck finding the ring?" Phil asked, gesturing to Stu with his coffee.  
  
Stu shook his head. "No. We looked everywhere we possibly could. Alan even took apart the drains in the kitchen and the bathrooms."  
  
"It's true. I did do that," Alan confirmed without anyone caring.  
  
"We checked the wall safe in the study but only Alan's mixed CDs were in there," Stu continued.  
  
Alan piped up again. "They're fine, by the way."  
  
Sam and Phil glanced over at him through their sunglasses and then back to Stu, who was shrugging. "Maybe you lost it before we got back to the hotel yesterday morning? Maybe when Crazy Carl attacked Alan with the broken bottle?"  
  
Sam shook her head. "No, because that doctor said Phil and I were showing it off at the hospital when Alan was getting stitched up."  
  
"Okay, well, then after that when we were doing whatever it was we did after the hospital."  
  
Phil tilted his head back and let out a groan. It was his turn to start to freak out a little. "Wow, we are so screwed. What are we gonna do, man? We can't go up to the top of this building without that ring? What if whoever has Doug won't give him back?"  
  
"What if he really gets killed?" Stu added to the somber mood. "Tracy is gonna kill us."  
  
"After she castrates us," Phil muttered, taking a sip of coffee. They all stood there for a few moments, watching the people milling about around them on the sidewalk. "Well," he finally spoke again, after calming himself down with the help of his hot caffeinated beverage. "We should go buy tickets to get up there," he gestured upward with his coffee.  
  
"We should buy the express passes. It's double the price as a regular ticket but it will allow us to skip the lines and we can go straight up to the top without waiting," Sam informed as Phil opened the door to head into the building.  
  
"Sounds good to me," Phil commented.  
  
"How do we explain that we don't have the ring and for Doug to not be killed?" Stu questioned.  
  
"Lie? Say we never took any ring and they have us mistaken for someone else?" Phil shrugged. He had no answers.  
  
"They knew where we were staying," Sam said. "How come they just didn't come to us?"  
  
"Good point," Stu nodded.  
  
"It doesn't matter now. We just gotta buy some time by bullshitting our way through this next ordeal." Phil led the way, with Alan tapping Sam on the shoulder as they all followed.  
  
She turned and looked at him, pushing the sunglasses up off her face to sit on top of her head like a headband. "Yeah?"  
  
"Nice sunglasses. Where'd you get them?"  
  
"Vendor on the side of the street."  
  
Alan smirked. "They're just like Phil's. Now you both have something else you've shared."  
  
"What else have Phil and I shared?"  
  
"Bodily fluids," Alan replied nonchalantly, resulting in both Phil and Stu turning around to stare at him with scowls, while Sam's mouth just dropped open slightly.  
  
"Alan," Stu spoke in a chastising voice.  
  
"Well, he's not lying," Sam shrugged. Her green eyes met Phil's blue ones and they shared a smirk. She brought her coffee to her lips to mask it though and the foursome continued on to buy their express passes.


	16. 86

There were six people in the elevator heading up to the 86th floor.  
  
Stu was leaning against the wall to his left with his left arm outstretched so that his hand was pressed against the panel with the elevator buttons. Alan was behind Stu, stroking his bare chin and thinking about something that made him look contemplative. Sam was directly across from Stu on the opposite side of the elevator, her entire body slouched against the wall and her tired eyes masked by her sunglasses as she held her coffee cup. Phil was behind Sam, leaning against the back wall, slightly bent at the knees and his sunglasses also covering his eyes as he occasionally took a sip of his now cooling coffee. His gaze, however, was focused on the small Asian couple in the center of all of them, huddled closely together with linked arms, looking from one to the other of the ragged quartet. The poor couple looked as if they were worried about being mugged or defiled at any moment. Either that or they were enthralled for some odd reason.  
  
After the long trip toward the top, the elevator came to a stand still and the doors dinged open, sliding apart with ease. The Asian couple stepped out immediately and without a second thought. The foursome simply pushed off of whatever was bracing them up and sauntered out and found themselves in a gift shop.  
  
"How do we get out to the Observatory Deck?" Stu asked.  
  
Sam walked ahead, pointing at a pair of doors. "There."  
  
The guys followed behind her as she led the way outside and into the early morning sunlight. There was already a small crowd wandering around, in awe of the magnificent view from all sides of the building. Some people were staring out through viewfinders positioned at different places around the deck, others were taking pictures of the scenery with their cameras or of themselves with the scenery behind them. There was a youthful, twenty-something couple huddled together, kissing and there was a security guard standing near the doors that the foursome had just exited.  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
Phil glanced over his shoulder at Stu, momentarily distracted by the view like so many others. He glanced down at his wristwatch. "Eight fifty-six." He dropped his hand back down to place both of them on his hips. He looked over the top of his sunglasses to look around. "Do you see anyone who looks like they have a vendetta against us?"  
  
The other three glanced about, then shrugged.  
  
"That young couple not coming up for air looks a little suspicious," Sam tried teasing, offering to take Phil's empty coffee cup from him after he down the last sip. She caught a smirk from Phil who followed her gaze toward the liplocked duo.  
  
"That's my kind of suspicious," he replied as she tossed both their cups into the nearest garbage bin.  
  
"Well, I just wanna get this shit over with. I'm tired and achy and I just wanna get Doug back so we can hurry up and find Sam's sister so we can get the fuck out of New York," Stu whined. "I miss my wife and her pregnant belly and my own bed and my cat Snickers."  
  
"Wait," Phil interrupted Stu, holding his hand up. Stu looked expectantly at his friend. "You named your cat Snickers?" He then let out a chuckle. "That's so gay."  
  
Alan looked between both men and sided with Phil, emitting a chuckle of his own. "Yeah, that is pretty gay. I'd never name my cat that."  
  
Stu shot Alan a withering look. "Yeah? And what would you name your cat then?"  
  
"Sir Alonso Aberforth Fitzwilliam de Burgh."  
  
Stu, along with Sam and Phil stared blankly at Alan. "And how is that not gay?" Stu snipped.  
  
"'Cause it's not," came Alan's deadpan response. "It's awesome."  
  
They all took turns looking from one to another before walking closer to the fence the surrounded every side of the Observatory Deck to prevent suicidal jumpers or accidantal falls in general. They hooked their fingers into the holes and peered down at the very far, 86-story drop to the street below. They were looking down at 5th Avenue; where they were when they first arrived to the building.  
  
Stu swallowed back a lump in his throat but it was Alan who spoke what they were all thinking. "I wonder if there would be anything left over of us if we fell from here to the street. Maybe we'd just be a gooey puddle of bones and blood like when a vampire gets staked on _True Blood_."  
  
If Stu's stomach was sour, he would've thrown up just then from the imagery. Instead he just looked sideways at Alan and frowned.  
  
"You watch that show, too?" Sam asked with a smirk over to Alan.  
  
Alan nodded. "Yup. I love Eric. He's the man."  
  
"I prefer Bill," she commented with a small laugh; the two of them momentarily lost in their small, off-topic conversation while Stu and Phil were still thinking about what a fall from that height would do to them.  
  
"Didn't that show _Mythbusters_ do an episode where they disproved a penny killing someone on the ground from this height?" Phil asked just as a voice behind them wafted into their ears.  
  
"Hey, _bitches_! Where's my wife's ring?"  
  
The foursome immediately spun around and found themselves looking at none other than Mr. Chow, standing in a pair brown cargo shorts, a yellow and green Hawaiian shirt, a pair of neon green Crocs and his usual pair of sunglasses on his face. There was also the subject of the bling he wore; a couple gold necklaces, a few rings on his fingers. He looked ridiculous, especially since he was no taller than five foot five, but his attitude and confidence seemed to even it all out. More so with two taller Asian men standing beside him who looked very capable of bench pressing several hundred pounds.  
  
The guys narrowed their gaze in confusion.  
  
"Chow? What the fuck...what..." Stu stuttered. He looked over at Phil who looked as just as lost for words as him. "What are you _doing_ here?"  
  
"You have hearin' problem, Four-Eyes? You stole my wife's ring last night. I want it back." Chow sized Stu up and gestured frivolously with his hand.  
  
"We took _your_ wife's ring?" Alan repeated with a laugh. "Walt Disney was right. It _is_ a small world after all." He waved a greeting to the small, international criminal. "How've you been, Leslie?"  
  
Before Chow could respond, Phil interuppted. "Didn't Interpol arrest you in Bangkok two years ago?"  
  
"Yeah," Stu nodded. "There was that whole...sting operation set up by that cop who liked the plum whiskey."  
  
"Kingsley," Alan offered.  
  
"That wasn't his real name," Stu replied.  
  
"Oh yeah."  
  
"Omigod, shut up." Chow held his palm up to the pair and rolled his eyes. "Too much of this," his remarked moving his fingers like he was working the mouth of an invisible puppet. "More of this." He stopped the gesturing. Placing his hands hips he shifted his weight from one leg to the other and then peered over the top of his sunglasses at the foursome. "I was arrested and did some time, but I got out early on good behavior..." he trailed as if holding something back. "And...Mr. Chow might have had information on someone higher in the food chain than himself," he added, referring to himself in the third person.  
  
"You cut a deal?" Stu questioned.  
  
"More or less." Chow smirked. "I know people who know other people. We came to an understanding. I was released. No harm, no foul."  
  
"What are you doing here in New York?" Phil asked.  
  
"Didn't you hear me, Pretty Boy? I got released from jail," he answered. "I come to the City That Never Sleeps for vacation fun time with the missus. We party a little, I drop a few loads in her, make happy family..." he trailed again. "Maybe score a few bumps..."  
  
"I'm pretty sure most of that violates parole in any country," Stu muttered.  
  
Chow stared off for a moment, either ignoring Stu's comment or not hearing it. "Also thinkin' I'd maybe start a more respectable career..."  
  
"Oh yeah? Like what?" Phil wondered, arching an eyebrow. A part of him was amused.  
  
"Wall Street," Chow answered, deadpan. He then looked at each of the foursome individiually, then as a whole. "Okay, I ask one more time, fellas. Where...is...my wife's...ring?"  
  
"Where's Doug?" Sam asked, finally uttering a peep to this small man the guys apparently knew but she didn't...or probably met during their blackout.  
  
"Hey Red, you lookin' good. How's the bruise?" Chow glanced at Sam and gestured to the same spot on his jaw where Sam had hers.  
  
"Uh...fine?"  
  
"That's good." Then, "I'll tell you where Doug is when I get my wife's ring."  
  
"Are you really going to slit Doug's throat if we don't give you the ring, Leslie?" Alan asked, a little nervous.  
  
"You mean after you all played a part in getting me arrested and I had to spend two years away from my wife's lovely poonani? Why shouldn't I slit Doug's throat?"  
  
"Because at your core you're a decent guy?" Stu suggested with slight hope in his voice but it was mostly just doubt.  
  
Chow narrowed his eyes into a scowl at Stu and then grabbed his crotch. "You can suck on my decent Chinese balls."  
  
Phil rolled his eyes. "Listen, Chow..." he sighed and held his hands up in a surrender of sorts. "We don't have the ring. We spent all night tearing our hotel suite apart looking for it but we couldn't find it. We're sorry. We're ready to pay for whatever it cost."  
  
"You can't buy sentiment, muthafucka!"  
  
Sam frowned. "We know, but...it's not the ring that's important. A ring is just a ring. It's the love you have for your wife that really matters, right?" Sam took a few steps forward. "Any ring can be important and contain the same sentiment as long as it's a symbol of your love."  
  
Phil caught Sam's eye when she briefly looked at him. "Right," he added. "I lost my wedding ring before and yeah, it was upsetting, but I got it replaced. It didn't change the fact that I was any less married or that I loved my ex any less."  
  
Chow made a face like he'd just eaten a lemon. "I'm gettin' advice on love from a divorced man and the single woman he was fuckin' in the ladies' bathroom two nights ago? Hah, that funny."  
  
Had either Phil or Sam been drinking their coffee anymore they would've both spat it out at the exact moment.  
  
Stu took a step forward this time. "Mr. Chow, please. We don't have the ring anymore and we can only offer to get you a new one. We're sorry. Please, can we just have our friend Doug back?"  
  
Chow scanned each of their faces but didn't look like he was likely to budge anytime soon. The foursome looked truly defeated. They looked between each other and then back toward Chow and his two goons as a tall, curvaceous woman who looked like a Victoria's Secret model of mixed African-American and Asian origins sauntered out from the doors of the gift shop. She saddled up beside Chow and placed her left hand on his shoulder and peered at the foursome.  
  
"Baby, it's not that big of a deal," she spoke to Chow with an Australian accent. "We've been married seventeen years. I think my ring is due for an upgrade anyway, don't you?"  
  
Looking up at the Amazonian-esque woman, Chow smiled delightfully. "Anything for you, _wǒ de ài_."  
  
The woman smirked and squished his face with her hands before laying a big kiss on his lips. Stu, Phil and Sam all grimaced a little but Alan just smiled at the intereaction. When Chow and who could only be Mrs. Chow came up for air, he smiled happily at the foursome.  
  
"Okay, okay. I'll let you buy my wife her new ring."  
  
"He got the last one at Tiffany's. I don't expect anythin' less than Cartier this time."  
  
Stu died a little on the inside. His own wife didn't even get Cartier. "Sure," he replied. "No problem."  
  
"Can we have Doug now?" Phil asked.  
  
Chow looked at Phil and then let out a laugh of pity mixed with amusement. "Oh, yeah." He shook his head. "I don't have Doug."  
  
"What?" Stu squealed. "You left us a messaged at the Plaza front desk saying if we didn't get you your wife's ring by nine today you'd slit Doug's throat!"  
  
Chow held up a finger to silence Stu. "Technically, the message was I had your little friend, and I only said that 'cause you boys always lose some little friend. Doug, Teddy. I figured after how crazy you all were two nights ago and that you had the balls to steal my wife's ring right out from under me, you must be on somethin' and would wake up the morning after without any memory of what went down...just like the other times."  
  
Phil turned his back to Chow and brought his hands up to run through his hair, frustration oozing out his every pore. Stu just stood there, a little shellshocked, maybe. Sam didn't know what to make of any of this as she placed one hand on her hip and the other held up while Alan just smirked.  
  
"Classic us."  
  
"Let me get this straight," Sam growled. "You let us believe we had hope of finding one of our own? Now we're back to square one!" She threw her hands up. "This...this just _really_ sucks balls."  
  
"Sorry. Not my problem anymore. Toodle-oo, mofos. I'll keep in touch to see how the ring purchase is comin' along 'cause if you don't come through, I'll send my boys here to your doorsteps and break your legs, 'kay?" Chow informed with a pleasant smile. He waved his fingers at Alan. "Bye, Alan. Skype ya later!"  
  
"Bye, Leslie! Don't be a stranger!" Alan waved back with a big grin as Chow, his wife and goons headed back into the gift shop to leave.  
  
Stu turned on Alan. "How can you associate with a crazy asshole like that?"  
  
"If you got to know him like I do, you'd know he can be very sweet and thoughtful. He sent me a birthday card last year from prison."  
  
Stu just continued to look at Alan, wondering what planet he was from as he walked over to Phil and Sam. "Oh...my...god, Phil. We're so fucked we won't be able to sit right for the rest of our lives! What do we do?"  
  
Phil dropped his hands down from the top of his head and glanced at the three staring back at him. Despite him being responsible for the blackout this time around, as always, it was up to him to make the tough decisions and lead this pack. Slowly, he reached his right hand into his pants pocket and pulled out his cell phone.  
  
"The only logical thing left to do."  
  


* * *

  
  
Tracy was in her parent's backyard where her wedding had taken place four years earlier. She had stayed the night and since both her parents and her daughter were early risers, she had no choice but to be the same. It was only after six in the morning and her father, Sid, was taking a break from his omelet and toast to throw his granddaughter Sarah up into the air and catch her while his wife, Linda, sat at the patio set, happily looking on. When her cell phone rang, Tracy excused herself from the Sunday morning breakfast she was sharing with them on the patio. The early morning sun had already crested over the horizon and was now starting to beat down on her head as she saw who was calling. She immediately answered, her free hand strategically placed on her hip.  
  
" _Phil_ ," she whisper-shouted. "What happened?"  
  
 _"I'm sorry, Trace. We fucked up royally this time."_  
  
Tracy removed her hand from her hip and placed it to her forward. She was trying to calm herself down. "Okay...start from the beginning if you have to. What...happened?"  
  
 _"I don't know what to say."_  
  
"Say anything, Phil! Just tell me you didn't lose my husband again. Please..."  
  
 _"Yeah...we didn't just lose Doug this time. We lost a bride, too."_  
  
"You what?" Tracy questioned, her voice almost raising an octave. "Please tell me you're joking." This seemed to be a thing with the guys but now they not only lost her husband but some poor woman about to get married? "Anything else I need to be freaking out over?"  
  
 _"And we're in some serious trouble."_  
  
"Phil? What kind of serious trouble? This bride wasn't some senator's daughter or something, is she?"  
  
 _"Sorry, Tracy. I gotta go."_  
  
"What? No, Phil...answer my..."  
  
The line went dead and Tracy let out a frustrated sigh. Closing her eyes tightly, she took a deep breath and walked back over toward the patio set. One look at his daughter's face and Sid offered a knowing and assuring smile.  
  
"The boys got into it again?"  
  
Tracy nodded. "I have no idea what goes through their minds when they get together for these weekends."  
  
"What'd they do this time?" Sid asked, sitting back down with lil' Sarah on his knee as he bobbed her up and down like she was on a pony ride. "Dead hooker in the bathroom?"  
  
" _Dad_ ," Tracy chastised.  
  
Sid's eyes widened a bit. "Oh, sorry." He covered his hands over Sarah's ears and whispered, "Did they find a dead hooker in the bathroom?"  
  
" _No_ ," Tracy scoffed, setting her cell phone down on the patio table. "They lost Doug again," she replied. "And apparently some bride."  
  
Linda took a sip of orange juice from the glass in front of her. "Well, boys _will_ be boys, dear. You know they always come through and find whoever they misplaced."  
  
Tracy frowned. "I hope so." With her hands held out she gestured for her dad to hand her daughter over. Once in her arms she smiled at Sarah and placed a kiss on her nose. "Uncles Alan, Phil and Stu lost your daddy again. Let's make sure they don't babysit you. Ever," she added with a smirk.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Is there something wrong, sir?" Phil was asking the security guard who had tapped him on the shoulder. The man looked to be in his late fifties to early sixties. The way he carried himself gave one the impression that maybe he was a retired cop working part-time as a security guard to supplement his income.  
  
"Hand over the cell phone," the guard demanded.  
  
"Uh, okay." Phil did as he was told as the other three watched. "Can I ask what this is about?"  
  
The guard grunted. "Haven't you watched the news lately? The National Terrorism Advisory System has issued a threat assessment of 'imminent'. I can check bags and cell phones of anyone I deem suspicious at random." He pointed between Phil and the others with Phil's phone. "You four have just been standing around here, looking like you ran with the bulls in Pamplona, not really bothering to enjoy the view like regular tourists and it looked like a Mexican stand-off between all of you and those Asians. Now you're on the phone with someone. How do I know you're not calling for an air strike on the city?"  
  
"Uh, because I'm not a terrorist," Phil held his hands up defensively. "I was calling my friend's wife to let her know we can't find him. We lost him at some point early yesterday morning and that small Asian guy said he knew where he was. Turns out he was lying. So, now my friends and I are screwed," Phil explained. "And we look like shit because we've spent the last day running all over this city, getting attacked by bums and birds in the process, trying to find our friend and the sister of this nice lady here who is supposed to get married in, oh..." he looked at his watch quickly. "Under five hours."  
  
The security guard studied Phil closely, while glancing at the numbers of recent calls Phil had made. He then turned to look at Sam. "It's your sister that's missing?"  
  
Sam nodded. "Yes. She was partying with us Friday into Saturday. She got back with us to the hotel the guys were staying at. By that time our friend Doug was already missing. She turned around and left the hotel an hour after we returned and we have no idea where she went. Phil and I," she gestured between her and Phil, "have already gone to the police and filed a report about her being missing. You can call Detective Contello at the 17th Precinct if you don't believe us."  
  
Stu had moved to stand next to Alan as they both kept quiet while the security guard sized up Sam and Phil.  
  
"You can use my phone to call if you want," Phil offered.  
  
The security guard frowned. "Nah," he replied, handing Phil his phone back. "Just...move along. Get off my observatory deck, buy a fuckin' souvenir or something. Just get going and go find your friends."  
  
"Okay." Phil took his phone and pocketed it. "Just like that? We're good to go?"  
  
The security guard nodded. "I was a young prick like you once upon a time." Off Phil's offended look, the guard continued. "I know what it's like to have a wild and crazy night in this city and lose a few people."  
  
As the foursome convened together and began to move toward the doors to head into the gift shop, Stu turned back around.  
  
"Thanks," he muttered.  
  
"You'd be surprised where people can turn up. Sometimes it's like the dead rising from their grave."  
  
Looking back toward his friends with a frown, Stu caught the last bit of what Alan was saying to Sam and Phil.  
  
"I need one of those green, foam Lady Liberty crowns."  
  
"No, you really don't, Alan." Phil scratched at his face as they made their way around the gift shop back toward the elevators.  
  
"I swear I won't ask for anything again," Alan whined, stomping his right foot down like a child preparing to throw a temper tantrum.  
  
Sam and Phil turned back to look at him. Sam placed a hand on Alan's shoulder and gestured toward the cash registers. "You have your own money and you're a grown man, Alan. Go buy your damned souvenir yourself. We're not going to hold your hand."  
  
Alan pulled back and sank into himself like said child being scolded by the parent he was most fearful of. "Fine," he muttered quietly. He stalked off in the direction of display of Lady Liberty foam hats.  
  
"Damn, woman. You know how to lay the law," Phil commented with a charming and approving smile.  
  
Stu just looked between the pair. "Just curious," he began. "What Chow said about the two of you in a ladies bathroom..." Both seemed to blanche a little.  
  
"Let's focus on figuring out what we're gonna do about Doug and my sister, huh?" Sam insisted, walking to the elevators.  
  
Phil just shot Stu a look. "Stu..."  
  
"I'm just sayin'. Do you _know_ how unsanitary public restrooms are?"


	17. A Grave Situation

Directly across the street from the Empire State Building was a McDonald's and since the foursome had yet to eat anything since the afternoon before, their stomachs were more than angry at them. And there really was nothing more American than a McDonald's across the street from one of the United States' national historic monuments and one of the seven wonders of the modern world. Appeasing their growling stomachs, the foursome sat in a booth toward the back of the chain restaurant, shoveling food down their throats like the starving Donner Party on their fellow man.  
  
Phil was sitting beside Alan, wiping syrup from the corners of his mouth from the Big Breakfast with Hotcakes he was ingesting. Alan was finishing his third Egg McMuffin and taking a sip of his second Strawberry Banana smoothie to wash it all down. Stu, seated across from Alan, was already finished eating. He was sitting back, rubbing his stomach while his coffee grew lukewarm.  
  
"Uhh," he groaned. "I'm stuffed."  
  
Phil moved his tongue around, trying to pick a piece of a hashbrown out of his teeth as he glanced over at the tray on the table in front of Stu. "Bullshit," Phil muttered in between shoveling a plastic forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth, and then continuing to talk with the food in there. "You ate two fuckin' breakfast burritos and some hashbrowns. You'll be starving by lunch."  
  
"I ate enough to fill the void, not to sustain me for another twenty-four hours." Stu threw his friend a disdainful look. "And do you _have_ to talk with your mouth full? We're in a restaurant and you look like a slob."  
  
"This is McDonald's," Phil swallowed his food down with some coffee, "and fuck you."  
  
Sam sat beside Stu, across from Phil, ignoring the guys as she stabbed at her hotcakes with her white, plastic fork. She took her time eating, making sure not to give herself an upset stomach. Like Alan, she had a Strawberry Banana smoothie to wash the food down with. She only had the one, however. Sam was listening to the interaction between the two men but not participating. She really didn't care about what they were saying, how much they were eating. She was focused on getting herself fed and what she was going to tell her parents when she couldn't find her sister. It was only four hours till the wedding.  
  
Stu scoffed and looked away, bringing his coffee to his lips.  
  
Phil, just shook his head and looked straight across at Sam, studying her face and how she seemed to be in her own world. Slowly, he stretched his left leg out under the table and brushed his foot against hers. Since the night before she had been wearing a pair of flip-flops that belonged to Stu because she had thrown her heels into the garbage bin in Times Square, which left her with no shoes to wear. She was lucky Stu had packed more than enough shit. Granted the flip-flops were quite large on her considerably small feet, but it was something rather than nothing.  
  
"We need to get you some better shoes."  
  
Sam felt the gesture before looking up. "These are fine," she responded curtly.  
  
Phil frowned. "Are you angry at me?"  
  
"Why would I be angry at you?"  
  
He shrugged. "I dunno, you just seem it."  
  
"Well, I'm not angry at you. I'm just thinking how my sister is probably lying dead in a sewer somewhere and I have to tell my folks this because it looks like the wedding won't take place in four hours like it's supposed to."  
  
Stu turned to his right to look at Sam. He lifted his right hand and rubbed her upper back to show her support, but she just shrugged it off.  
  
"I could've spent the last day looking for her, finding my own clues on her, but I was helping you three find Doug. And I know I said that Doug's life being threatened was more serious but now that we all know it wasn't, I realize that I've wasted this time and my sister could be dead for all I know."  
  
"You can't think that way, Sam," Phil tried to speak soothingly.  
  
"Oh shut the fuck up, Phil," she snapped. She dropped her fork down and sat back. "Stu was right, this is all your fault."  
  
Phil sat back as well, narrowing his gaze in a defensive stare, mentally preparing himself for whatever verbal onslaught was coming his way.  
  
"The more I think of it," she continued, "the more I realize, yeah, okay...you didn't force feed that LSD to us, but we were probably already a few sheets to the wind when you offered it. If you hadn't brought it to the table, literally, the option to take it wouldn't have been there. So, fuck you."  
  
"Been there, done that," Phil retorted, in regard to the last thing she said.  
  
Pursing her lips, Sam stood up out of their booth with the stealth of a cat, and without warning, brought her balled up fist right against Phil's right eye, exactly where he had the bruise from being punched by someone else. Phil let out a yelp of surprise and pain as Sam stalked off, taking her smoothie with her but leaving her food half-eaten. Stu was sitting wide-eyed at the whole situation and trying to smile like it was nothing at the other customers in neighboring booths. Alan, not surprisingly, was trying to tend to Phil.  
  
Stu's flip-flops smacked the establishment's tiled floor as Sam walked away and the bell above the door jingled to signal her exiting outside. Stu slid over to stand up and head out after her but Phil brought his hand up and stopped him.  
  


* * *

  
  
Leaning with her hand on top of a garbage bin directly outside with the McDonald's logo on it, Sam looked around at the busy morning street, occasionally bringing the straw in her smoothie to her lips. The knuckles on her right hand were turning a dark shade of pink caused from the impact of punching Phil. When a pair of hands found their way onto her shoulders, she jumped and spun around. Because of her shorter stature, she found herself staring into Phil's chest rather than his face. She looked up at him and frowned.  
  
"I'm sorry," he apologized. He was looking down at her at first, then stared over her head toward the entrance to the Empire State Building. Though she had turned her body, his hands found their way back to her shoulders. "I'm sorry for supplying us with LSD on Friday night, I'm sorry we trashed our suite, I'm sorry I danced on a bar and set it on fire, I'm sorry I stole Chow's wife's ring, I'm sorry we ended up in Brooklyn and Alan ended up slashed by Crazy Carl, I'm sorry we lost the ring, I'm sorry we don't know what happened to your sister after we got back to the hotel, I'm sorry Billy Joel's bird seemed to have a vendetta against Stu, I'm sorry you went into anaphylactic shock and your sister's purse got stolen..."  
  
Sam just continued to look up at him as he rattled off all the things that had happened to them in the last thirty-six hours that he was taking responsibility for.  
  
"I'm sorry for it all." He looked back down at her. "This last year has been pretty shitty. I thought my marriage with my ex-wife Stephanie was pretty great, but apparently it wasn't to her because last year she ripped my fuckin' heart out and stomped on it when she told me she was leaving me for Stu's wife's cousin Ting Deng." He'd actually gotten the name right, but that was beside the point. "It came out of left field and I've spent all this time growing bitter toward her and doubting I could move on from her toward...anything, or anyone. And I needed this weekend, I _really_ needed it. Not just to get obliterated. I could do that at home. I wanted this..." he gestured behind him toward McDonald's where Stu and Alan were still inside. He then gestured between himself and Sam. "And this. I wanted the crazy, I _craved_ it. I just think I needed an outlet for everything that's been building up inside me."  
  
He pulled a hand away from her shoulder and balled it up into a fist, pounding it into his chest once. Over his shoulder, Sam could see Stu and Alan in the window inside McDonald's, their faces between the humps to the golden yellow arch of the McDonald's sign.  
  
"I'm sorry my need to let loose for a weekend caused the domino effect of shit that this weekend turned out to be." He looked further down, at his hand and unballed it, bringing it to her arm. "I'm not sorry for me and you, though. You're...amazing. You're funny, you don't take shit from anyone, you care fiercely about people you're not even close to like Doug and your own sister and...you have an amazing ass."  
  
Phil smirked and, despite herself, Sam began to as well. "Pilates," she responded.  
  
"Ahh," Phil nodded, his smile more prominent. "I apologize if I'm being too bold here, but am I wrong in saying we go pretty well together?"  
  
Sam narrowed her green eyes up at him. "Let's not jump the gun just yet," she replied. Slowly, she brought her right hand up and touched her fingers gently to the side of his right eye which was already turning a purplish color. "I'm not sorry I punched you."  
  
He shrugged it off. "I have a feeling you wouldn't be you if you were sorry." He brought his hand up to cover hers, causing that same hand of hers to press flat against his face. "I figure you might've been the one who punched me in the same spot on Friday night."  
  
Letting out a chuckle, Sam replied with, "I guess we'll never know."  
  
Phil bit his bottom lip and just stared back at her. "I'm gonna jump the gun just a little, okay?" he asked before leaning forward and kissing her fully on the lips. She seemed hesitant only for a moment but then seemed to melt into the gesture.  
  
From inside McDonald's, Alan turned to Stu and began to grin. "I'm glad they worked their issues out. It's not good for the pack when the mama and papa wolf are angry at each other."  
  
Stu met Alan's gaze with a questioning raise of his eyebrow.  
  
Alan noticed the look and continued to add, "You know...like Abraham Lincoln said: 'united we stand, divided we fall'."  
  
"Wow, Alan," Stu commented, an impressed expression appearing on his face. "You honestly surprise me sometimes."  
  


* * *

  
  
The foursome all seemed to be playing nice once again as they made the trek by foot, south on 5th Avenue, until they reached the foot of the street where they could be found staring up at the Washington Square Arch at the entrance to Washington Square Park.  
  
"This is kinda like the Arc du Triomphe in Paris, isn't it?" Stu asked, only slightly rhetorical.  
  
Sam just nodded. "Yeah," she commented. "It was modeled after it, but the statues of George Washington on either side of it didn't come until years later."  
  
Phil smirked as he looked down at her. "For someone who grew up in Long Island and has lived in LA the last fifteen years since leaving high school, you sure know a lot of tidbits about this city."  
  
Looking up at Phil, Sam shrugged. "I came into the city a lot growing up and have been back a few times since." She threw him a knowing look. "I also happen enjoy history and reading from time to time."  
  
"Oh yeah?" he asked as she lead the way across Washington Square North, the street that ran perpendicular to 5th Avenue, through the Arch and into the park toward the central fountain where people were wading in its waters to cool their feet down from the late morning heat.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What else do you know?"  
  
Sam gave him a look. "About New York in general?"  
  
"No, about this park. Like, when it was built or some shit like that."  
  
"I don't know when it was built, but I know that in the early 1800s it was used as a burial ground."  
  
They all walked forward as Sam spoke, Alan pushing ahead of them and taking his shoes off in the process. Stu took his eyes of Alan to look at Sam, considering what she said and something sounding familiar to him.  
  
"This area wasn't originally part of the city limits. It was farmlands until it was bought at the end of the 18th century to become a public burial ground. Most of those who died from a series of yellow fever epidemics in the early 19th century were buried here, safely away from town for hygienic reasons."  
  
"So, people are buried underneath where we stand?" Alan asked, looking over his shoulder as he neared the fountain barefoot. The expression in his eyes suggested both intrigue and nervousness.  
  
"Yep," Sam nodded. Phil grimaced a little at that. "The cemetery was closed in 1825, and to this day the remains of more than twenty thousand bodies rest under this park."  
  
"Does it mean this park is haunted?" Alan wondered as he climbed into the fountain and began to kick the water around.  
  
Sam shrugged. "Maybe."  
  
Phil smirked and looked from Sam to Alan, shook his head at how childish the portly guy could be and then to Stu who seemed to be dazed about something. "Hey, Stu." When he got no response, he added, "Earth to Stu. Come in, over." He reached his hand up and flicked at Stu's ear; the one that hadn't been hurt by Billy Joel's macaw.  
  
"Ow," Stu exclaimed initially, touching his hand to his ear before making a face at Phil.  
  
"Daydream much?"  
  
"No, I think I was remembering something from Friday night..."  
  
"Oh?" Phil narrowed his gaze as Sam followed suit, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
"I told ya," Alan called out, apparently able to hear their conversation over the sound of him and other people splashing slightly in the fountain. "We're gonna start to remember some things we did while on LSD at random times over the next few days."  
  
A mother who had been perched on the side of the fountain, immediately reached out for her young son who was wading beside Alan. She grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him out and went furiously about getting his shoes on so they could get away from the overweight man talking about LSD in a fountain.  
  
Stu looked down and furrowed his brow, muttering something to himself. "Something about graves is sticking out," he said as he looked back up at Phil and Sam.  
  
"Actually, yeah," Sam agreed, catching Stu's eye. "That is sounding familiar."  
  
"Do you think we visited some graves?" Phil suggested. "Are there any cemeteries around here?"  
  
"Small ones," Sam replied.  
  
"No," Stu spoke. "I'm thinking bigger. I think we might've been at a pretty huge cemetery. I'm starting to get these fuzzy flashes in my head of walking past gravestone after gravestone."  
  
"Well, that doesn't really help us. There are a bunch of small cemeteries here in Manhattan but the larger ones are probably going to be on Long Island," Sam remarked, placing her left hand on her hip while she looked up at Phil with her right hand outstretched. "I need your phone. I need to make the call to my parents. It's almost eleven-thirty." Sam frowned. "This wedding is not gonna happen today."  
  
Phil gave her a sympathetic look as he pulled his cell phone out. He turned it on and glanced at the screen. "Gonna hafta make it quick. I'm down to one bar," he said handing her the phone. "I never had the chance to charge it."  
  
Sam shrugged. "That's fine." Taking the phone, she dialed her mother's cell number. Fortunately she knew it by heart. After a few moments, her mother must've picked up on the other end, judging by the way Sam winced like someone had just scratched their nails down a chalkboard. "It's me, mom. Sam," she spoke. She turned her back to the fountain, staring toward the Arch. She began to take a few steps in that direction while conversing with her mother. "I'm sorry, mom, I don't know where Amanda is. I woke up yesterday morning and she was gone." Phil took a few steps closer Sam to put a supportive hand on the small of her back.  
  
Meanwhile, Stu was standing in the distance between them and Alan in the fountain. Slowly, a look of realization began to spread from his eyes to his entire face.  
  
"I know I said all those things," Sam was saying. "I was trying to buy time so I could find her. She took off around seven yesterday morning, I even went to a police station this morning to file a missing persons report to see if they can help." She sighed. "No. No, I don't think the wedding is gonna to take place."  
  
"Wait!" Stu screeched. He ran up to Sam and snatched the phone out of her hand and put it to his ear.  
  
"Stu, what the fuck?" Sam demanded.  
  
"Hey, Mrs. Simmons..." he spoke and stopped, being cut off by whatever Sam's mom had just said. "Sorry, Dr. Simmons. This is Dr. Stuart Price; your daughter Sam works for me. She was just joking about about not knowing where your other daughter is. You know, trying to relieve wedding day tension by making a funny." Stu smiled knowingly at Sam. "That Sam, such a joker. Both your daughters are standing right here, having a good laugh." Pulling the phone from his face he handed it back to Sam and then ran over to the fountain.  
  
Sam was at a loss for how to respond to her mother after that. "Uh...yeah, I was just messing with you, mom. Sorry, didn't mean to give you a heart attack or anything," she spoke looking at Phil with a shrug. They both looked toward Stu who was pulling Alan out of the fountain and making him put his shoes back on. "I, uh...we gotta go now, mom. The phone I'm on is about to die and we gotta get to Oheka Castle on time for the wedding! We're just running a little behind, traffic and all. So...bye?" Without another word, she hung up the phone and tossed it back to Phil who easily caught it.  
  
Almost immediately she stalked over to Stu and was about to rip him a new one, demanding what was up when he beat her to the punch. "I know where both Doug _and_ Amanda are!"  
  
Grabbing Sam by the arm he dragged her south out of the park with Phil and Alan running off behind her. As they reached the exit onto Washington Park South, they immediately spotted a yellow cab coming their way and Stu jumped right out in front of it, causing the others as well as pedestrians to turn and look with surprise. The cab came to a screeching halt and Stu leaned forward, pressing the palms of his hands down upon the hood as he stared at the cabbie through the windshield  
  
"We need a ride!" Stu shouted.  
  
The cabbie stuck his head out his window and flipped Stu off. "Whatthefuck, asshole? Who jumps in front of a cab?" the cabbie shouted, but didn't seem like it was going to take off anytime soon.  
  
"Four people who lost their friend, and a bride late to her wedding!"  
  
The cabbie beckoned to Stu. "What are you waiting for?" he shouted back, obliging. "You want a ride somewhere or not?"  
  
Stu grinned and looked over at his friends, motioning for them to get into the cab. He pushed Alan out of the way and took the front seat with the cabbie which forced Alan to actually be able to sit in the backseat this time with Phil and Sam.  
  
"Where to?" the cabbie asked of Stu.  
  
"What's the largest cemetery in Brooklyn with the best view of lower Manhattan?"  
  
"That'd probably be Green-Wood Cemetery. Why?"  
  
Stu looked at the three in the backseat and smirked before looking at the cabbie beside him. "Because that's where we need to be, and get us there as fast as you possibly can."  
  
The cabbie shrugged. "I'll see what I can do."  
  
Stu turned fully around in his seat; met with Phil and Sam's questioning eyes.  
  
"I don't get it," Alan commented. "Why are we going to a cemetery?"  
  
"Because that's where we left Doug," Stu announced.  
  
Furrowing his brow, Phil looked at Sam, then back to Stu. "What do you mean that's where we left Doug? We left Doug in a cemetery?" He was unsure about this.  
  
"And how do you know my sister's there if she came back with us?"  
  
Stu held up a finger to silence the pair. "That bum that fought Alan told us Doug was complaining about being tired and I said we should put him to sleep. We left that park by the Brooklyn Bridge but instead of heading back into the city right away to take Alan to the hospital, we ended up at Green-Wood Cemetery. I remembered while Sam was talking to her mom," he explained. "The bum said Doug left with us, but we lost him before reaching the hospital. I remember us hopping a fence into the cemetery and wandering around the paths till we found a mausoleum that was built into a hill."  
  
"Yeah?" Sam pressed. "So?"  
  
"So...Doug passed out against a gravestone and Phil thought it would be funny if we could get the mausoleum door open and put Doug inside."  
  
Phil grimaced, placing a face to his hand. "Shit, that does sound familiar."  
  
Stu pointed with a smirk. "Yes, and you got the door open with Alan's help and then we all carried Doug inside and propped him up on a bench. Alan took off his blazer and used it to keep the door propped open. We went walking around after and I remember..."  
  
"The view," Sam remarked, also starting to remember. "We found a spot where we could see a view of Lower Manhattan and...we forgot about Doug! Oh god, we left him in the mausoleum!" She looked at Phil and face-palmed herself.  
  
Alan chuckled. "Oh yeah. And then my wound started to bleed a little more..."  
  
"So we left the cemetery to head back into the city to find a hospital," Phil added. "We got distracted by Alan's cut and left Doug behind. Oh, _fuck_ me."  
  
"But what about Amanda?" Sam asked.  
  
Stu held a finger up to hush her again. "Not long after we got back to the hotel, I was laying on the table already, starting to fall asleep, and she walked over to me. I was so tired and out of it, I could barely understand what she was saying but now I remember her saying something about going to get Doug." Stu shared the looks of relief on the others' faces. "She must've remembered we left him and went back. She's probably been stuck with Doug in the mausoleum all this time. And that's why you couldn't understand Doug when he called," he looked to Phil. "He was using Sam's phone inside the mausoleum which probably didn't have good reception. And the only reason he had that phone was because he left _his_ back in LA and when she was leaving, Amanda grabbed Sam's purse instead of her own."  
  
Sam began to laugh happily, grabbing Phil's hand. "Oh my god, this is amazing!"  
  
"If I propped the door open, how come Doug didn't just walk out when he woke up?" Alan wondered.  
  
Phil turned to his right to glance at the portly man. "Because he probably didn't wake up until after Amanda got to the mausoleum. Maybe she forgot your blazer was there and kicked it out of the way on accident and the door shut behind her. I don't remember how tough the door was to open but if it took _both_ of us to do it, Amanda and Doug probably couldn't do it, especially from the inside."  
  
All four glanced between each other as their yellow cab drove onward toward the nearest bridge to take them out of the city and into Brooklyn.  
  
"Things are looking up!" Phil exclaimed, reaching forward and ruffling Stu's hair a bit. " _Fuck_ yeah! We got this shit under control, baby!"


	18. What's Lost Is Found

Birds were chirping delightfully in the trees and the sun was cresting higher into the noon hour sky. It had only taken the cabbie a half hour to get to Green-Wood Cemetery, driving through the entrance gates and through to the main gate; coming to a literal fork in the road. In a matter of seconds of pulling over to the side of the small roadway within the cemetery, the foursome had burst forth from inside the vehicle, with Stu asking the cabbie to keep the meter running. They turned from the cab and came to a stop, trying to figure out which way to go.  
  
Looking left, right and straight ahead, Stu smacked Phil on the chest. "You and Sam go straight, I'll go right. Alan," he looked over at Alan, "You go left, okay? Scream if you find the right mausoleum."  
  
"Dude, it's a cemetery," Phil remarked, proving once again he wasn't always the insensitive one of the bunch.  
  
"Then, I don't know. Caw like bird, very loudly."  
  
Without so much as a goodbye, Stu took off running to the right that narrowed into a pathway. Alan shrugged and ran in the direction of the left, as fast as his weight would allow him. He didn't go but fifty feet before having to stop and catch his breath, bending forward with his hands on his knees. Phil and Sam had already started to hurry off in their allotted direction when Sam noticed Alan's cease of movement.  
  
"Are you gonna be okay, Alan?"  
  
He turned back and nodded slowly. "Yeah," breathing in deep. "I'll be fine. It's just a little hot out."  
  
"You don't have to run, Alan. We don't need you keeling over dead," Phil said.  
  
Alan smirked appreciatively at Phil. "Thanks, Phil. I'll do my best."  
  
Phil just nodded and grabbed Sam's elbow, leading her onward. They ran straight ahead, trying to determine where exactly the right mausoleum would be. The path they took twisted and turned a little and they decided to veer right where they came upon two mausoleums. It was unspoken between them to separate; each walking up to one of the mausoleums. There was no one else around as they approached their respective mausoleum doors and knocked, calling out Doug's and Amanda's names. They waited, listened, but received no response.  
  
Looking at Sam, Phil shrugged. "On to the next."  
  
They continued on side by side, giving up on running for the time being. Sam spotted some mausoleums a little further up the path to her right, pointing them out to Phil who followed as she led the way. Cupping his hands over his mouth, Phil called out Doug's and Amanda's again as Sam went to the mausoleum closest to her, banging on the doors.  
  
By the third one, she turned and frowned at Phil. "I have a feeling I'm going to wind up in a special level of hell for this."  
  
"Well, we more or less desecrated a few graves already by leaving Doug in one of these things," Phil commented, patting the palm of his left hand on the door of the fourth mausoleum. "I'd say we're already fucked."  
  
Sam nodded, then began to smirk a little. "Maybe I'll stop into a Catholic church when we all get back to LA and I'll light a few candles."  
  
"You're Catholic?" Phil asked, as they moved toward the fifth mausoleum together.  
  
"Irish Catholic on my mother's side, Jewish on my father's."  
  
Phil winced and laughed at the same time. "Wow, that's a volatile mix."  
  
"Tell me about it."  
  
"I guess that means you enjoy whiskey, have the Catholic guilt and the Jewish greed."  
  
Sam scoffed playfully, giving Phil a shove to his arm. "What kind of name is Wenneck anyway? What volatile mix do you have?"  
  
"Wenneck is German. German on my dad's side and a little on my mom's but mostly English from my mom's side."  
  
"So..." Sam trailed, thinking. "So, basically you like your beer."  
  
Phil flashed her his usual, charming smile. "Basically." Walking backward, he grabbed her hands in his and pulled her toward him as his back pressed up against the fifth mausoleum. "Like I said back in the city, I think we go well together." He just stared down at her as she looked upward with a knowing smirk.  
  
"I dunno. I think my Jewish ancestors might have something to say about your German ones."  
  
Nearing her face, Phil muttered, "I don't really give a shit about what others say." He then grazed his lips against hers, but left it at nothing more than a graze as he stepped away, but not without a slap to her ass first. "C'mon. We have more mausoleums to desecrate."  
  
Stalking off on those two long legs of his, Phil head back toward the pathway they'd been on, leaving Sam to gather her wits and try to keep her temperature from rising; and not because of the warm weather outside. Biting her bottom lip, she followed after him.  
  


* * *

  
  
Stu had groaned the moment he realized he should've had Phil and Sam go right. He didn't realize just how much bigger the right half of the cemetery was. The path he was on curved back toward the front, bowed to the right and then some. Fortunately, there weren't as many mausoleums to get around to which he figured narrowed the search down considerably. He had also given up on running, due to the heat, his exhaustion, sore body and he didn't feel like getting dirty looks from groundskeepers or mourning visitors for running around like a crazy person, calling out names and banging on mausoleums.  
  
He kept up with a light jog as he manuevered around a few graves, only once tripping over a flat headstone he hadn't seen, that lay only slightly elevated above ground. He recovered quickly, looking around to make sure no one saw him. Unfortunately there was an elderly woman with her hand resting on a headstone, making a face at him.  
  
He nodded to her and offered a small smile. "Tripped," he explained lamely, turning his jog to a fast-paced walk until he was out of her line of sight, then he took off jogging again toward the next mausoleum.  
  
"Doug!" he yelled under his breath. "Doug! Amanda!"  
  
He was getting nothing. He found two masoleums at least twenty feet apart and walked up to one before realizing something.  
  
"What are you doing, Stu?" he asked himself. "Why are you knocking on every mausoleum you come across when the one you're looking for is built into a hill?" He then raised his eyebrow as if a split personality taking over. "Because I'm a dumbass, that's why, Stu," he answered his own question in a slightly raised tone.  
  
Shaking his head, he marched onward.  
  


* * *

  
  
When Phil and Sam came upon a row of approximately nine or ten mausoleums built on a small hillside, Sam smacked his arm and grinned. Their excitement over their finding was short-lived when they saw a funeral was in process across the pathway from the mausoleums.  
  
"Fuck," he groaned. "How do we discreetly check the mausoleums for Doug and Amanda with those people over there?"  
  
Sam shrugged. "Nonchalantly?"  
  
They began to walk up the incline toward the first of the many mausoleums, with Phil placing his hand on the door and calling in a low voice, "Doug? You in there?"  
  
"Amanda?" Sam called. "It's Sam."  
  
Phil looked at her. "I don't think it's this one."  
  
By the time they reached the sixth mausoleum, they noticed someone walking toward them on the pathway from their right. On closer inspection, they saw that it was Alan, completely covered from head to toe in dirt; his hair, face, white T-shirt he'd bought at the hospital, Stu's green swim shorts, legs, and feet.  
  
His _bare_ feet.  
  
"Alan? Where are your shoes?" Phil asked, stepping back down the incline and closing the gap between them. "And why are you so dirty?"  
  
"Oh, your hand's bleeding," Sam pointed out with a sympathetic look. She grabbed Alan's hand and held it palm side up only to drop it back down for a moment.  
  
"I kinda fell," came his sheepish response.  
  
"Where?" Sam inquired, leaning forward to tear at the bottom of her sister's pink dress she was still wearing. It had a slight ruffle to the bottom and she ripped part of that off with a strength that impressed Phil, judging by his expression. The dress seemed like it had been well-made and after all they'd been through in the last day and a half, the dress was virtually intact. Till now.  
  
"Spit in your palm," she ordered and Alan obeyed. She took part of the pink ruffle to wipe his spit around to clean around his cut. As she began to wrap the entire piece of ruffled fabric around his hand, she asked again, "Where did you fall?"  
  
"Into a grave." His response was more nonchalant then when he first mentioned falling; as if he was more embarassed over falling in general than falling into a grave.  
  
Both Phil and Sam just looked at him, incredulously. "Are you fucking serious?" Phil asked. "How do you fall into a grave?"  
  
"There was a buttefly I was trying to follow while I was looking for mausoleums and I didn't see the open grave and I fell in."  
  
"Oh my god, Alan." Sam kept staring in disbelief. She had an image in her head of him falling face first into a grave and landing on some casket, but Alan nixed that thought of hers with his following comment.  
  
"It's okay," he shrugged off. "There wasn't a coffin in there yet. It was empty."  
  
"How'd you cut your hand, then?" Phil looked over toward the funeral starting to disperse and brought a hand up to his head. His sunglasses were on and shielding his eyes, but the sun was directly above his head and the glare still found its way to his blue orbs.  
  
"I was trying to pull myself out and I grabbed a rock and it had a sharp edge."  
  
"You gotta be more careful about where you're going," Sam muttered motherly to the portly man.  
  
Alan simply nodded with a small smile. "I know. I get distracted sometimes."  
  
"But where are your shoes?"  
  
"Still in the grave."  
  
"Well," Phil spoke, deciding to change the subject. "We have four more of these mausoleums right here. They're built into a hill, so we're thinking maybe Doug and Amanda could be in one of these. You can help us."  
  
Alan's smile grew larger. "Okay." He walked right up to the next mausoleum and knocked loudly on the door, garnering looks of contempt from those in attendance to the funeral across the way. "Hey, Doug? Are you in there? Amanda?"  
  
"Alan," Sam hissed. "Quietly."  
  
"Oh, sorry."  
  
Just as the three of them began to move toward the next mausoleum, they heard this loud, girlish scream of excitement in the distance.  
  
"What the hell?" Sam wondered.  
  
"I think that was Stu." Phil turned in the direction the scream came from and, sure enough, Stu came a-running, waving his hands when he spotted the others. When he saw the funeral that was breaking apart and the glares he was receiving, he immediately winced and ceased his wild gestures, but he kept running toward his friends.  
  
"I found them!"  
  
Sam's eyes widened and she decided she didn't care about proper cemetery decorum anymore. She ran the remaining distance to meet Stu halfway; Stu's flip-flops she was wearing smacking annoyingly on the paved pathway. Because they were so big on her feet it made it difficult to run so she kicked them off, bent down and picked them up. "Where are they?"  
  
Stu gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. "This way." He looked over to Phil and Alan who were approaching. "I couldn't get the door to budge on my own. I could hear their voices inside but the thing is built so solid their voices were muffled. I couldn't make out what they were saying."  
  
"Probably a few choice expletives," Phil commented.  
  
Nothing else was said as the foursome followed Stu as he led the way toward a hilly area of the cemetery where a lone mausoleum sat, built into said hill with several headstones in front of it.  
  
"Amanda!" Sam shouted, running up to it and banging her fist on the door.  
  
Sure enough, just as Stu had said, there were muffled voices inside and someone banged back on the door.  
  
Sam squealed in delight. "It's Sam! We're here to get you out!"  
  
The second bang happened, heavier this time.  
  
Phil gently pushed Sam out of the way and grabbed a hold of the knob, trying to yank the door toward him to no avail. "Alan, grab me around the waist and pull when I pull. I think the heat made the door expand and that's why it won't budge."  
  
Alan walked up behind Phil and wrapped his arms around Phil's waist, his face pressed into Phil's back and he pulled, causing both of them to fall backward on the ground, with Phil flattening out Alan.  
  
"God _dammit_ , Alan, I said to pull when I pull, not before," Phil grumbled, rolling to his side and pushing himself up to his knees. "My hand wasn't on the knob yet."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Stu helped Phil up while Sam did the same for Alan.  
  
Phil returned to the door once again, this time grabbing the knob and throwing a look over his shoulder. "Okay, _now_ you can pull."  
  
Wrapping his arms back around Phil's waist, Alan pulled with all his might and with a tacky suction sound resonating into the air, the mausoleum door popped open. It was dark inside since there were no windows like newer mausoleums had. The daylight provided just enough and the foursome were able to peer inside to make out a figure moving around just as a second came jumping out and attacking the first person standing in the way of the open door, which happened to be Phil.  
  
Phil went flying backward yet again, this time on the bottom of the pinning and a half-naked Doug on top, gripping Phil's shoulders and shaking the taller man mercilessly.  
  
"How can you leave me in a _fucking crypt_?" Doug shouted. "You _fucking asshole_!"  
  
"Whoa, Doug...Doug, calm down!" Phil shouted back, but trying to be more calm. He held his hands up and pried Doug's off his shoulders to force him to back off a little.  
  
Sam started to step inside of the mausoleum just as Amanda appeared, standing in her bra and panties but holding Sam's dark blue dress. She was covered in sweat and looking like she'd survived the holocaust. "Oh shit," Sam murmured, reaching her arms out to pull her sister toward her. The younger Simmons woman's blonde hair was so matted against her face as if she'd been in a sauna. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Is it my wedding day?" came her voice, scratchy and dry. She squinted, not used to the array of light from having been holed up in the mausoleum for more than twenty-four hours.  
  
Sam nodded guiltily. "Yeah, but we have enough time to get to OHEKA Castle and get you looking pretty," she touched her sister's limp hair. "The wedding can't start without you."  
  
"How come it took this long for you guys to find us?" Doug demanded, looking between the foursome who had been running around Manhattan and Brooklyn for the last two days. They were staring at him apologetically but also with amusement in their eyes.  
  
Doug was missing his eyebrows.  
  
"We blacked out again, couldn't remember anything when we woke up yesterday morning," Stu explained, trying not to chuckle at how weird Doug looked.  
  
"Explains why I couldn't remember how I got _locked in a fucking crypt_ ," Doug growled, walking back inside.  
  
"We didn't lock you in, we propped the door open and had every intention of getting you back out," Phil insisted, calling after his smaller friend. He looked over at Stu who was trying his best not to laugh. Phil shared the same feeling of wanting to laugh hard, but considering how angry Doug was, he didn't want to push that envelope. "We got distracted. Alan was injured and his wound seemed to be getting worse. We just forgot, man. We're sorry."  
  
Doug reappeared holding his dress shirt, dress pants and blazer in his hands, as he was standing there only in his boxers. "Why did we blackout at all, though?" His eyes wandered over to Alan. "Alan?"  
  
Phil stepped forward, putting a hand in front of the beardless man. "It wasn't Alan this time. It was me." Off Doug's confused gaze, he added, "I bought LSD off some guy in the bathroom at the restaurant we were at. We all took a piece."  
  
"I didn't," Amanda muttered. They all looked at her. "I remember seeing you coming back from the bathroom," she explained. "I was still at my table with my bridesmaids. I looked over seeing you all toasting something and putting something in your mouths. I figured it was breath mints you were passing around. Then Stu walked away 'cause he saw Billy Joel and brought him back over and then we brought our tables together."  
  
"You remember everything?" Sam asked.  
  
Amanda shrugged. "Most things. I've always been a lightweight when it comes to drinking. I didn't need LSD to contribute to blacking out a little. Most of Friday into Saturday is foggy but I remembered leaving Doug here. Of course it wasn't until a few hours later. I told Stu where I was going," she looked at Stu and pointed.  
  
"Yeah," he muttered sheepishly. "One of the things the blackout momentarily wiped from my mind until this morning."  
  
"I forgot there was a shirt keeping the door open and bumped it with my foot. The door was so heavy. It swung shut on its own and was sealed pretty tight. It woke Doug up and we tried opening it but there's no handle from the inside."  
  
"We're so sorry you were both left in there all this time," Sam apologized, wrapping her arms around her sister for a hug. "We've been turning over every stone in New York we could think of, trying to figure out where you were."  
  
"I bet you're starving." Alan stared at Amanda, his eyes occasionally migrating away from her face to take in the sight of her in only her undergarments.  
  
Amanda responded by pulling Sam's dress over her head. "I'll eat after I get married."  
  
The others smiled at each other. "Alright," Phil spoke, looking at Amanda. "Let's get you to the altar." He clapped his hands together and then placed one of them on Doug's back, giving him a supportive pat.  
  
As they began to walk toward the pathway, Doug was walking and dressing at the same time, hopping as he tried to put his pants back on. He passed his blazer to Stu while he pulled his dress shirt on and turned to look at Alan for a moment.  
  
"Hey Alan, your beard is missing."  
  
Alan didn't give any sort of physical gesture of acknowledgment. "So are your eyebrows."  
  
Doug touched his hands to his face and felt around. "Oh shit," he muttered.


	19. Jumping The Gun

The yellow cab was driving east on the I-495 toward Huntington with the air conditioning blasting. Doug was sitting up front with Alan and the cabbie; Alan in the middle. Meanwhile, in the backseat, which wasn't very roomy with four people, Stu sat behind the cabbie, with Amanda in the middle and Phil behind he passenger seat. Sam was sitting on Phil's lap, her hands gripping the seat in front of her for balance when the vehicle turned at all, despite the fact that Phil had his hands resting on her hips to help keep her stationary.  
  
Out the corner of her eye, Sam felt Amanda's gaze on her. She turned and furrowed her brow. "What?"  
  
Amanda simply sat back and shook her head, albeit a knowing grin on her face. "Nothing," she replied, looking forward and trying to peer over Alan's head to catch a glimpse of how she looked in the rearview mirror.  
  
Forty minutes after leaving Green-Wood Cemetery, the cab arrived to OHEKA Castle Hotel and Estate. Amanda handed Sam her purse and Sam pulled out her wallet, offering up her charge card, figuring that since she had it now she could contribute to all the traveling fares the guys had paid for. Doug tried to protest, since he had his wallet on him but she would hear none of it. As the six of them almost literally piled out of the cab, Amanda looked at Sam.  
  
"Where's my purse?"  
  
"Stolen."  
  
Amanda just nodded. "I guess I'll have to call to cancel my credit cards tomorrow before I leave on my honeymoon."  
  
"Sorry," Sam offered up as they all walked quickly across the entrance courtyard, each and every one of them looking like disasters.  
  
Amanda shrugged. "It's okay." She then slipped an arm around her big sister. "You know, I might have been stuck in a mausoleum in a cemetery for a day, that was hotter than Hades, with no food or water, but everything that led up to that was so much fun."  
  
Sam looked her sister in the eye and began to smile. "Yeah, I remember next to nothing, but I had fun, too."  
  
The sisters embraced in a side hug. "Best bachelorette party _ever_ ," Amanda laughed.  
  
As the six walked into the front entrance, they were greeted by a worker of the hotel and estate standing by the grand staircase. He looked down his nose at all of them, not knowing who they were or why they looked like white trash.  
  
"Can I help you?"  
  
They all pointed to Amanda. "This is Amanda Simmons, bride. She's getting married here today and needs to get ready ASAP. We're already behind," Sam announced.  
  
"And the rest of you are?"  
  
Sam pointed to herself. "Maid of Honor," she then gestured to the guys, "and guests."  
  
Stu cringed when he looked down at himself and the state of all of their clothes. "Is there maybe a way to clean up?" he asked, partly toward the OHEKA Castle employee but also to Sam. "I don't think this is how anyone should attend a wedding."  
  
"There are polo shirts available for purchase," the employee commented directing them up the grand staircase to the main floor.  
  
"That'd be great," Phil commented. "Could we get four of those?"  
  
"What sizes?"  
  
"Uh, two large, one medium and one extra large?" he replied, knowing his own size but trying to size up Stu, Doug and Alan. They nodded at him that he got it right. "Yeah," Phil confirmed his uncertainty. He pulled his wallet out, removing one of his credit cards, about to offer it to the employee. "Can I just give this to you?"  
  
Amanda just reached her hand out and pushed Phil's down. "Don't," she said to him. She then looked to the employee. "Just charge the shirts to my father, Dr. Ira Simmons."  
  
The employee nodded and continued to lead them toward the second floor where the hotel suites were. Amanda walked side by side with the employee and Sam trailed behind them, while the four guys brought up the rear, looking around at how opulent the inside of the place was. When they reached a particular door, the employee knocked and after a few moments, the door opened, revealing a woman in her early sixties who looked almost identical to Sam. She had the same shade of auburn hair with the exception of several strands of grey here and there, the same color of green eyes. The only difference was the woman was more plump, her hair was done up in a styled bob, there were age lines on her forehead, crow's feet beside her eyes and wore glasses.  
  
The woman squealed with relief upon seeing Amanda. Her arms immediately went around the blonde bride-to-be. "Oh, thank god. Get in here, get in here...we don't have time to mess around. We need to get you cleaned up and dressed, and oh sweet Jesus, is there any time to even do your hair and makeup?"  
  
"Mom, it'll be fine," Amanda assured with a calm demeanor. Apparently this woman was Sam and Amanda's mother, Dr. Colleen Kirkpatrick-Simmons.  
  
"I'll be back with your shirts," the employee remarked to the men before disappearing somewhere down the hall.  
  
Sam and Amanda's mother looked at Sam and frowned, placing her hands on her hips once she shooed Amanda inside the suite. "How could you scare me like that, thinking you lost your sister in the city?"  
  
"Well, _technically_ she was never my responsibility," Sam retorted.  
  
"It was an _unspoken_ responsibility," Colleen commented. "You're her big sister and maid of honor. Keeping track of a bride is the maid of honor's duty during a bachelorette party or weekend."  
  
"Well, I didn't lose her, she's here now. Let's get her married." Sam sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair, her lips pressed together firmly as she frowned exactly the same way her mother had just done.  
  
Slowly, Colleen reached a hand up and touched it gently upon her oldest daughter's face, where the bruise was on the left side of her jaw. "Someone hit you?" It was a moment of the loving mother she truly could be with Sam. Her eyes scanned to the four men standing behind her eldest and noticed their cuts and bruises, as well as the general filth covering them. Her eyes seemed to continually find their way back to Phil. She seemed a bit interested in who he was, or was perhaps found him attractive like so many others did; dirty and disheveled appearance be damned. "Who are you?" she asked the four guys, though she slightly more focused on Phil.  
  
Amanda pointed to Stu first, "This is my boss, Dr. Stuart Price."  
  
"You're the one from the phone."  
  
Stu nodded, "Yes." He offered his hand, which she shook. "It's nice to meet you. You're daughter is the best hygienist I've ever had. All my patients just love her. You must be proud," he added, laying it on thick on purpose. He knew from Sam, how her parents were disappointed in her not pursuing a career as any sort of doctor. They didn't seem to understand Sam was happy doing what she did.  
  
Colleen smiled appreciatively. Obviously, she couldn't disagree with the guys standing right there. It would be impolite and rude, not to mention embarrassing. "Of course. She's always been a very pleasant young woman, very hardworking."  
  
Sam raised an eyebrow. She didn't know if her mother was being honest or playing it up for the guys' benefit. Either way, she turned and pointed to Doug and Alan next. "This is Doug Billings, Stu's best friend, and Alan Garner, Doug's brother-in-law."  
  
Both men waved, but Alan walked up to Sam's mom and placed a hand on her shoulder which she looked at with disdain. "Your daughter Sam is a very important part of our wolf pack now. I just thought you should know."  
  
"A wolf what?"  
  
"And this is Phil Wenneck," Sam continued, gesturing behind her to Phil. "He's Stu's other best friend."  
  
Phil stepped forward and also offered his hand, flashing Colleen his million watt smile which seemed to melt her tough exterior a little. "I'm also Sam's boyfriend." He hadn't forgotten their conversation on the Brooklyn Bridge about how they should pretend to be together. Only this time, he was serious about it and not wanting to use it simply as some façade to throw in her mother's face.  
  
Sam turned and looked up at him with a grateful smile. As she turned back toward her mother, she declared, "They're my plus four."  
  


* * *

  
  
Some time later, the employee had returned to the suite Amanda was to use to get ready in for the wedding ceremony. He had the guys' four shirts in hand but was directed to a second, smaller room which had been booked by Sam's parents for Sam to use. Had the weekend gone according to plan, Sam would've spent the night before the wedding at the OHEKA along with Amanda, their parents, Amanda's betrothed and future in-laws, and both sides of the wedding party. They had the rooms until the following morning.  
  
The guys had taken turns showering and changing back into the same bottoms they'd worn. Only this time they were all wearing polo shirts. The two larges where light blue and white striped with the same light blue color for the collar. Those went to Phil and Stu to wear. Doug and Alan got the plain white polos. All four had the same OHEKA Castle logo over the left breast. When they were showered and redressed, they realized Alan was still without shoes as he'd lost them in the grave he'd fallen in. He would definitely be quite the sight and would stick out like a sore thumb being barefoot and still wearing Stu's green swim trunks. Stu had finally removed the Ace bandage from his head Sam had applied the night before and Alan had removed the makeshift bandage made from a part of the pink dress Sam had made for him. Their wounds seemed to be trying to heal themselves. They were all just left with a few cuts and bruises here and there.  
  
After finding their way down to the main floor, they were ushered out to the formal gardens, all the way to the end where chairs were set up in two different sections in front of a gazebo adorned with an array of what looked to be tie-dyed lilies. Each petal seemed to be a different color: red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple. It was an odd choice for floral arrangements.  
  
It was after three, the ceremony was an hour late, but the guests had been informed on this and were offered hors d'oeuvres and cocktails while they waited. Phil had snatched a glass of whatever liquor the wait staff was walking around with when the guys took a seat toward the back.  
  
Stu peered toward the front where the gazebo was, narrowing his eyes upon something, before turning to the others and whispering, "Where's the groom? Shouldn't he be waiting up there with his groomsmen?"  
  
Alan shrugged, "I don't even see any groomsmen."  
  
"Maybe they're all walking down the aisle in pairs and Amanda and her fiancé are gonna walk down together. Not every bride is walked down with her father," Phil suggested. "Stephanie walked down with her mother, remember?"  
  
"I thought that was because her father died when she was in high school," Stu muttered, then looking over at Phil who was taking a sip of his cocktail. "You're already drinking?" he questioned.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Stu didn't push it any further as the string quartet off to the side of the gazebo started playing a classical rendition of 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow.' Everyone turned around and saw about ten women, walking two by two, down the aisle, all wearing the same short, kelly green dress with matching kelly green ribbon around their waists. Their shoes were the same color and their hair was all done up in the same French twist. Next came a black woman in the same dress, only instead of a green ribbon around her waist, hers was white. Following directly behind her was Sam, wearing the same outfit.  
  
The guys were confused.  
  
"Ten bridesmaids and two maids of honor?" Stu remarked. "How big is this wedding party going to be?"  
  
As Sam walked past, a bouquet of white lilies in her hand, she winked at the foursome. Her hair was swept back off her face into some sort of hair clip that was covered by baby's breath. The bruise on her jaw was covered up as best as possible with foundation and her makeup made her features stand out. Normally she looked rather pretty, but with the makeup she was stunning.  
  
Phil's eyes were locked on her as she continued her way up the grassy aisle; something in his chest fluttering.  
  
As 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow' began to end, the typical wedding march began to play and Amanda came walking toward the ceremony area from the gardens, her mother and father on either side of her, walking their youngest up to the gazebo altar together. Once she reached the gazebo, surprise genuinely hit the guys.  
  
A woman with blonde hair, a few shades darker than Amanda's, came walking up the aisle in a bridal gown of her own. She had an older man and woman walking her up the aisle just as well. Her dress was more simple, compared to Amanda's who wore what looked like a big cream puff. The second woman wore a more classic style dress; something that would've been worn by a Hollywood starlet in the 1930s.  
  
The bridesmaids had broken up in two, five on either side of the gazebo. The black maid of honor stepped to the left and Sam stepped to the right where Amanda stood, awaiting the other woman in white.  
  
"I don't get it. Is the groom not coming?" Alan asked. "Is Amanda being stood up?"  
  
Phil, Stu and Doug all began to chuckle.  
  
"No, Alan," Doug muttered.  
  
"Well, then, what's going on?"  
  
"This is a gay marriage, Alan," Phil replied, quietly.  
  
"A what? Like, they're lesbians? How does that work?"  
  
"Gay marriage was made legal here in New York two years ago. A man can marry a man, a woman can marry a woman," Stu explained, equally as quiet.  
  
Alan furrowed his brow. He still didn't fully grasp what was going on. "That's kind of silly. But as long as they love each other, I guess." He shrugged, and sat up straight, his hands folded in his lap as he watched the ceremony begin.  
  
While Amanda and her bride, who's name appeared to be Emily Burleigh, exchanged their vows, Sam tore her eyes away and let them fall upon Phil's face several rows back on the left side of the aisle. He caught her staring at him and smiled. She smiled back.  
  
"...Therefore," the justice of the peace was saying, "by the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce that the two of you are wife _and_ wife."  
  
Everyone began to clap, tears were falling down cheeks and the music started up again as the JP added that bride may now kiss bride. As Amanda and Emily kissed, they turned around to face their guests, hands clasped tightly together and held high above their heads. Walking back down the aisle together, guests threw a mixture of red, yellow and pink rose petals at them before they walked off together back through the gardens, rounding the fountain in the center and heading back toward the estate. Sam and the other maid of honor followed next, and then all ten bridesmaids.  
  
The guys turned to one another, taking it all in.  
  
"Well, this was certainly a different kind of wedding," Stu remarked.  
  
"It was a beautiful ceremony," Doug added in an agreeing tone.  
  
"You didn't seem surprised about it being a gay marriage," Phil pointed out as the four of them stood up.  
  
"Well, I _did_ spend twenty-four hours stuck in a mausoleum with Amanda. When we weren't dying of heat, thirst and hunger or sleeping on a stone floor, she told me a lot about her wife Emily. Or...she called her Emi, actually."  
  
"Aww, did the two of you become bosom buddies?" Phil teased as they began to follow the other guests back to the estate.  
  


* * *

  
  
Dinner was held in the Terrace Room which was the largest room available. The tables were adorned with kelly green table clothes, the center pieces were tall crystal vases filled with an array of colorful flowers, continuing with the gay pride theme that began at the gazebo. Following dinner, the cake was cut and pieces were distributed to the guests by the wait staff.  
  
There had been a few last minute RSVPs from guests who couldn't make it to the wedding or reception so there was no trouble at all finding a place for the four guys to sit. They were actually seated rather close to the head table as it turned out. Both Sam and the other maid of honor, Chantel, gave their little speeches about their respective bride, with Chantel's being very sweet and heartfelt while Sam's was laced with more humor and slight allusions the the last two days without actually admitting anything that had happened.  
  
When all the food was cleared, some people remained relaxed in their seats, drinking alcoholic beverages, teas or coffees and talking with each other. Most moved to Grand Ballroom where dancing was.  
  
Amanda and Emily had the first dance and then came their dances with their fathers. Everyone was welcomed to join in for the next song. Phil, Stu and Doug seemed to begin mingling, drinks in hand and even dancing to some of the more uptempo songs. Alan, on the other hand had started to duck out of the ballroom, his cell phone pressed to his ear.  
  
"Al, where are you going?" Phil asked.  
  
Alan looked up, covering the phone with his hand. "This is an important call I have to take."  
  
Phil just raised and eyebrow and shook his head. Casually, he began to maneuver his way through the crowded dance floor. Melissa Ethridge's song 'I'm The Only One' was being played by the DJ when he found Sam. He tapped her on the shoulder and she turned around to face him, smiling.  
  
"Hey," she greeted.  
  
"Hey," he replied. "I liked your speech."  
  
"Thanks. I hadn't actually prepared anything. I was _totally_ winging it."  
  
"Still liked it." He immediately curled an arm around her waist and pulled her close up against him taking her left hand in his right as he pulled her further toward the middle of the dance floor where her sister and sister-in-law were also dancing.  
  
"I take it you'd like this dance," Sam jested with a slight chuckle.  
  
"Damn straight. You are my girlfriend after all."  
  
"Oh," she muttered, her eyes wide with realization. "That's right, you outted our torrid affair to my mother when we first got here."  
  
"Hope you didn't mind," he spoke as he swayed them side by side. The way he was able to move his hips like that was practically illegal.  
  
Sam shrugged. "Actually, no I didn't." Leaning in closer, she pressed her chin to his chest and looked up at him a bit more as he looked down. "I'm thinking that maybe it would be alright after all if we jumped that gun. I mean, as long as that's okay with you..."  
  
Phil grinned. "Oh, definitely okay."  
  
"Good." Without warning, she pulled her hand from his hand and brought it up along with her other one to grip both sides of Phil's face, pulling it down to her level so that she could plant a deep kiss on his lips.  
  


* * *

  
  
The reception went on for a few more hours of dancing when Alan began to walk toward the DJ and whispered something in his ear. The DJ looked back with a curious expression on his face and let Alan take the microphone.  
  
"Uh, can I have everyone's attention please?" he spoke. All eyes were immediately on him and he clammed up a little. "I, uh...you don't know me. But I know the bride, well...she...I met her at some point on Friday night till we lost her and my friend Doug, but...uh, from what I know she's a swell gal and her lesbian wife is lucky to have her," he winked at Amanda. Meanwhile, Stu facepalmed from where he was standing beside Doug and Phil, the latter who was standing behind Sam, his arms wrapped around her waist. "We met a pretty awesome guy on Friday, too, and even got to party with him and kinda babysat his pet bird. You're...um...all probably wondering what this has to do with anything...but he's here right now and wants to sing something for the happy couple. So, uh, congrats Amanda and...uh, whatever your bride's name is." Alan went to give the DJ back the microphone when he remembered one more thing. "Oh yeah, ladies and gentleman, and the gays and lesbians, please welcome...Billy Joel!"  
  
Alan finally gave back the microphone and then stepped away from the DJ. A piano was being rolled into the ballroom, followed by Billy Joel who was met by exclaims of surprise, cheers and clapping. Once the piano was in place, he took a seat at the bench.  
  
"Congratulations to the beautiful brides," he spoke into the microphone that the DJ had walked over and held for him. Billy Joel then went right into singing 'She's Always A Woman To Me.' "She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes. She can ruin your faith with her casual lies. And she only reveals what she wants you to see. She hides like a child but she's always a woman to me..."  
  
Phil pulled Sam in for the umpteenth dance that night; the only time she didn't dance with him was when he stepped aside to let her dance with her father twice and even with Stu once.  
  
"She can lead you to love, she can take you or leave you. She can ask for the truth but she'll never believe you. And she'll take what you give her as long as it's free. Yeah she steals like a thief but she's always a woman to me," Billy Joel continued to sing. "Oh, she takes care of herself, she can wait if she wants. She's ahead of her time. Oh, and she never gives out and she never gives in. She just changes her mind. And she'll promise you more than the garden of Eden. Then she'll carelessly cut you and laugh while you're bleeding. But she brings out the best and the worst you can be. Blame it all on yourself 'cause she's always a woman to me."  
  
"You're a great dancer," Sam complimented Phil.  
  
"You're not so bad yourself," he quipped, claiming her lips for another kiss.  
  
Meanwhile, Billy Joel sang on, his voice and music wafting throughout the ballroom. "Oh, she takes care of herself, she can wait if she wants. She's ahead of her time. Oh, and she never gives out and she never gives in. She just changes her mind. She is frequently kind and she's suddenly cruel. She can do as she pleases, she's nobody's fool. But she can't be convicted, she's earned her degree. And the most she will do is throw shadows at you. But she's always a woman to me..."  
  


* * *

  
  
Following Billy Joel's performance, he found his way to the two brides, wished them well and kissed them both, then walked over to Stu, Doug, Phil and Sam. Alan was trailing behind Billy Joel.  
  
"How come you're here?" Phil asked incredulously. "Did Alan ask you or something?"  
  
Alan shook his head. "No, _he_ called _me_."  
  
"Seriously?" Doug questioned.  
  
Billy Joel nodded. "Yeah, I called him because I found something I think you were looking for," he announced pulling from his pants pocket a stunning diamond ring that was ornate but not over the top gaudy.  
  
"Omigod!" Sam squealed. "The ring!"  
  
"Shit," Phil muttered, taking it from Billy Joel. "You found the ring? I guess we don't have to buy Chow's wife a new one now. We can just give this baby back to him."  
  
Stu raised an eyebrow, a little confused. "Just curious...where exactly did you find it?"  
  
"Ruby shit it out this morning." Ruby being his macaw, of course.  
  
Phil's face immediately fell as he eyed the ring in between his thumb and index finger.  
  
Billy Joel noticed the expression change and laughed. "No, no, it's okay. I sterilized it. Ruby must've swallowed it at some point."  
  
The four guys and Sam all looked between each other and began to let out laughs and exchange smiles.  
  
Phil then held the ring up to Sam. "Well, we could still always buy Chow's wife's another ring. I mean, I _did_ steal this fair and square for you."  
  
Sam smirked but pushed the ring away. "Time to go back to not jumping the gun."  
  
He shrugged. "Hey, it was worth a shot."  
  
Without warning, Alan grabbed Sam by the hand when The Culture Club's 'Karma Chameleon' began to play from the sound system. "Come dance with me, Sam." She didn't have much choice but oblige.  
  
While the pair began to dance on the dance floor, Stu nudged Phil, looking down at the ring still in the taller man's hands and then up at Phil's face. "Were you actually going to go through with your LSD-induced, blackout drunk proposal?"  
  
Phil shrugged. "Maybe I was..." he smirked, putting the ring in his pocket. "Maybe I wasn't. You'll never know, Dr. Faggot."


	20. Sometimes It's Better Not To Know

**11 DAYS LATER...**  
  
Stu was walking side by side with his wife Lauren into the backyard of Phil's house via the driveway. He was carrying a large bowl of some sort of salad with a tray of some sort of dessert, covered with cling wrap, balancing precariously on top of the bowl of salad. Lauren looked like she was glowing; her hair was pulled up off her face in some sort of chignon hairstyle and wearing a yellow summer dress that allowed her considerable baby bump to not be so obvious. Rounding the corner to the patio behind the house, the Prices found Phil at the grill, cooking up burgers and hot dogs; a pair of grill tongs in his right hand and a beer in his left.  
  
Phil glanced over at Stu and Lauren as they approached and grinned with a laugh. "Hey! Dr. Faggot, Mrs. Faggot, 'bout time..." Phil set the tongs down and went to give Lauren a hug. She really was great for Stu, and what made her such a great addition to their circle of friends is that she didn't take offense to how Phil had just referred to them like Stu did.  
  
Stu just rolled his eyes and smirked, giving a nod of his head. "Phil."  
  
"Hey Phil," Lauren smiled, then pointed at his beer once their hug ended. "What number is that?"  
  
"Since I woke up or since I started grilling?" he teased. "No, this is my second. I can't be drunk around my kids, you shitting me?"  
  
Sure enough, he gestured toward the back of the yard where a playset was set up. His twelve-year-old son Eli was running around with his baby sister Penny who was giggling incessantly, trying to catch up. Doug and Tracy's daughter Sarah was toddling behind Penny, also giggling.  
  
"Hey Stu, Lauren," Doug greeted from the patio table a few feet away. His eyebrows were growing back but his face still looked a bit funny because of it. He was holding a beer in his hands also with Tracy seated beside him, nursing a can of Diet Coke. She tore her eyes away from the kids to smile up at the other couple.  
  
"Hey," Stu replied. "Happy Fourth of July."  
  
"Same to you."  
  
Phil took a swig of his beer and glanced at everything Stu was carrying. "What'd you bring?"  
  
"Lauren," Stu began with pride in his voice, "my little Martha Stewart, made a delicious shrimp pasta salad and a homemade rhubarb cherry crisp for dessert."  
  
"Damn, woman," Phil chuckled. "Can I steal you away from Stu? Maybe borrow you on the weekends?"  
  
Lauren just laughed. "I'll hafta check my schedule."  
  
Phil smiled and gestured toward the sliding glass door that headed into the house. "Food goes inside to keep the bugs away."  
  
Stu nodded and turned to Lauren to give her a kiss, craning his neck over the bowl and tray he had in his hands. "Save me a seat at the table." Parting his lips from hers, he walked into the house and turned right into the kitchen where he found Sam standing at the center island, chopping up carrots and celery for a vegetable tray. "Hey, Sam."  
  
Sam turned and grinned. "Ooh, you brought more food. Nothing with nuts, I hope."  
  
"No, no nuts. Lauren usually makes this great almond dessert with cherries but I told her we had to keep you in mind 'cause we all prefer you amongst the living." He smirked at her and placed the bowl down on the counter and moved the tray off and set it beside the bowl.  
  
"Aww, thanks."  
  
Stu just stood there for a moment, pressing his lower back into the counter and watching her. "So, uh...how's _not_ jumping the gun going?" he smirked.  
  
Sam looked back up from her veggie tray and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well...the first few days back from New York were very slow. I think we all just needed to recuperate from that weekend and get our bearings."  
  
"Tell me about it," Stu remarked, then shivering. "I'm still having nightmares about Billy Joel's bird."  
  
Sam laughed. "On Friday, though, after I left work, Phil met me for coffee at Starbucks and, well..." she gestured to the kitchen. "I've more or less been here every day since."  
  
"In the kitchen?" he joked.  
  
"No, doofus. Here, at his house."  
  
Stu caught her eye. "Yeah, I know. Phil already told me."  
  
"He did?"  
  
Stu nodded and pushed off the counter, walking up to the center island to snatch a carrot off the tray and popping it into his mouth. "He called me at the office on Monday and told me you two decided to say 'fuck it' and throw caution to the wind."  
  
"More or less."  
  
"Hey, Sam, is there a plunger anywhere?" Alan came walking into the kitchen from the hallway that led into the kitchen but also led toward the front of the house where the entrance hall and staircase were. He looked between Sam and Stu, who hadn't seen the other man since they all returned to LA and noticed that his beard was starting to grow back in.  
  
"In the closet across the hall, I think. If not there, I recommend checking the bathroom upstairs."  
  
"Okay, thanks." Alan replied, then gave a quick glance at Stu. "Hiya Stu, Happy Independence Day to you."  
  
"Hi Alan. I see your beard is coming back in."  
  
Alan touched his hand to his chin and nodded. "I didn't like how my face felt without it. I felt naked." Without another word, Alan disappeared out of the kitchen again and Stu grimaced at Sam.  
  
"I like how you didn't bother asking him why he needed a plunger."  
  
"Sometimes it's better not to know," Sam commented, looking up at him with a knowing grin toying at the corners of her lips.  
  
"Ain't that the truth."  
  


* * *

  
  
The sky was growing dark and the guys were standing around talking with drinks in their hands. Tracy and Lauren were the only ones sitting at the patio table; Sarah asleep already in her mother's lap. Eli and Penny were playing with sparklers that were being supplied to them by Alan everytime the one they were holding died out.  
  
The sliding glass door to the back of the house slid shut as Sam walked across the patio toward the grassy part of the yard where she approached the guys with something small in her hands. She smiled as she joined the four of them and almost instantly, Phil curled an arm around her.  
  
Pressing his lips to his temple, he tried to peer down at whatever it was she was holding. "Whatcha got there?"  
  
Sam held out her hand, revealing a digital camera.  
  
"Oh, no," Stu groaned. "Not again."  
  
Doug just laughed. "Is that what I think it is?"  
  
"If you think it's a camera full of pictures we took on that crazy night, then yes. It's exactly what you think it is."  
  
Phil snatched it from Sam's hands. "These things I gotta see."  
  
Sam snatched it right back. "Don't man-handle my camera."  
  
"Where did you find your camera?" Stu wondered.  
  
"It was in my purse that Amanda had. I forgot about it until we came back home last week. When I remembered it I figured I'd wait till the rest of you were all together so we can look at it."  
  
Alan stretched his arm out to tap Sam on the shoulder. "Can, uh...can I borrow the memory card to print copies?"  
  
Stu scowled. "No. No, we do what we always do. We look at these once and we delete them."  
  
"Yeah, I don't do that," Alan commented.  
  
"He seriously doesn't," Phil chuckled. "He has the pictures from Bangkok in his room."  
  
Stu's eyes widened in horror, knowing very well what most of those pictures entailed. "We had a deal, Alan."  
  
"It's a good thing you didn't come with us to see Alan before we left for New York," Doug mirrored Phil's chuckle. "You would've flipped."  
  
Pursing his lips together, Stu began to fume silently, but tried pushing his anger to the back of his mind and ignore it. "Fine, fine. Let's see the damned pictures. But," he eyed Alan, "we seriously delete these ones."  
  
"I make no promises," came Alan's retort.  
  
They all began to huddle around Sam, looking down at the camera as fireworks began to shoot off into the sky from the distance, a barrage of color and explosive sounds. The moment she turned on the camera and went to the first picture, everyone pulled back, winced, bit their lip or exclaimed in horror.  
  
"Oh, fuck me," Phil muttered, a smile hinting in his voice.  
  


* * *

  
  
_Stu dry-humping a mannequin from behind in a sex shop.  
  
Phil pretending to dry-hump Stu as he dry-humped the mannequin.  
  
Alan holding a green dildo in his hands and grinning.  
  
Alan and Sam sword fighting with the dildos.  
  
Phil holding a finger to his mouth while Sam and Amanda put dozens of dildos into their purses; the store clerk in the background being distracted by a few of Amanda's bridesmaids flashing him.  
  
Alan laying on a display of broken liquor bottles, asleep.  
  
Doug pointing and laughing at Alan.  
  
Vinny, the liquor store clerk, shouting and Phil handing over his credit card.  
  
Stu swinging from the chandelier in the suite's living room.  
  
Sam sitting in Phil's lap, sucking on his neck while he smiled lazily and gave a thumbs up to the camera.  
  
Alan somehow sticking the dildos to the wall.  
  
Billy Joel at the door with Ruby the macaw in a cage, Alan standing happily behind him.  
  
Billy Joel playing something on the piano with Doug laying on the piano, listening, while two of the bridesmaids hold lit lighters.  
  
Alan setting his suitcase on fire in a fireplace.  
  
Sam kissing Billy Joel.  
  
Billy Joel getting shoved by Phil.  
  
Billy Joel punching Phil in the eye.  
  
Billy Joel and Phil hugging it out.  
  
Amanda's bridesmaids holding Stu.  
  
Amanda in a bathroom with Alan, shaving off his beard.  
  
Doug holding the beard shavings to his face, one of the bridesmaids laughing.  
  
The backs of Alan, Stu, Doug and Amanda walking down the street with beer bottles in their hand.  
  
Phil kissing Sam's ear on the subway.  
  
Sam's hands down Phil's pants on the subway train.  
  
Alan pole dancing on the subway train, Amanda putting a dollar in his waistband.  
  
Stu pole dancing on the subway train, some creepy old guy shoving a handful of twenty dollar bills into his waistband.  
  
Stu holding the money up to the camera and grinning.  
  
Doug getting a lap dance from a stripper, but holding his hand over his eyes.  
  
Amanda getting a lap dance.  
  
Mr. Chow and his wife hugging Stu and Alan.  
  
Stu, Mr. Chow and Doug in a group hug.  
  
Mr. Chow doing a line of cocaine, Alan just staring.  
  
Phil and Sam under a table making out, Mr. Chow sitting there drinking a glass of amber liquid.  
  
A stripper giving Alan a back rub while he's texting.  
  
A pair of men's feet with pants pooled around the ankles, and a pair of women's feet underneath a bathroom stall.  
  
Phil walking sheepishly out of the bathroom stall, part of Sam seen behind him.  
  
Phil holding Mrs. Chow's hand and smiling drunkenly at her.  
  
Phil kissing Mrs. Chow's hand.  
  
Phil with Mrs. Chow's ring between his teeth, grinning, with Mrs. Chow none the wiser in the background.  
  
Stu carrying Sam in his arms down a street, Alan doing the same to Doug.  
  
Sam on top of a bar, dancing.  
  
Sam taking her dress off.  
  
Sam standing there in just her bra and panties.  
  
Amanda climbing up onto the bar with Sam's help.  
  
Both sisters in their bra and panties.  
  
Alan holding their purses, and staring.  
  
Sam pouring drinks into people's mouths.  
  
Phil on the bar, dancing with the sisters.  
  
Sam and Phil grinding together.  
  
Alan laying on the bar with Amanda off the bar, laughing at something.  
  
Amanda doing a body shot off Alan.  
  
Some guy giving Amanda his number on a napkin, her frowning at it.  
  
Phil pouring liquor on the bar.  
  
Alan handing Phil a lighter.  
  
Phil setting the bar on fire.  
  
Sam's scared face at the flames.  
  
Stu screaming.  
  
Stu crying.  
  
Alan, Phil, Sam, Stu and Amanda in a dark alley.  
  
Sam putting on Amanda's dress, Amanda putting on Sam's dress, with Alan just staring.  
  
Phil kissing Sam.  
  
Phil on bended knee, presenting Mrs. Chow's ring to Sam.  
  
Sam on her knees also, kissing Phil.  
  
Phil and Sam, standing side by side, showing off the ring on her left ring finger, Alan in the background texting.  
  
Alan hugging Phil and Sam at the same time.  
  
Alan in the driver's seat of a yellow cab, Sam pulling a woman out of the cab's backseat.  
  
Sam being punched in the jaw by the woman.  
  
Sam laying on the ground beside the cab, Doug hunched over her trying to help her up with Phil yelling at the woman.  
  
Stu, Phil, Sam and Doug in the backseat of the yellow cab while Alan's driving it, smiling at the camera.  
  
Alan giving the bum from Brooklyn a hundred dollar bill.  
  
Alan getting punched in the gut.  
  
Alan puking.  
  
Phil, Stu and Amanda laughing.  
  
Alan punching the bum in the face.  
  
Alan with the bum in a headlock.  
  
Crazy Carl pointing a broken bottle at Alan.  
  
Stu screaming at the blood soaking through Alan's T-shirt, Alan looking perplexed.  
  
Phil and the bum wrestling Crazy Carl to the ground.  
  
Alan taking off his his blazer off.  
  
Alan taking his shirt off, revealing his bleeding gash.  
  
Alan, wearing his blazer again and giving the bum his shirt, the bum smiling appreciatively.  
  
Doug laying against a headstone, sleeping, with Phil laughing next to him, holding a bottle of Jack Daniels.  
  
Doug being carried into the mausoleum by Phil, Stu, Alan and Amanda.  
  
Alan placing his blazer in the doorway of the mausoleum.  
  
Phil leaning forward, gripping a headstone and laughing.  
  
Stu waving his hand in front of his face, fingers wide apart and grinning like a Cheshire cat.  
  
Phil kissing Sam, Lower Manhattan at night lit up behind them in the distance.  
  
Stu driving the yellow cab, Alan in the backseat laying across Sam's lap, Phil pressing Alan's ascot to his wound.  
  
Alan on a gurney, smiling as he's getting stitched up by Dr. Kerwin.  
  
Phil and Sam showing off Mrs. Chow's ring to Dr. Kerwin.  
  
Alan shaking hands with an Indian man in a turban, pointing to the yellow cab in some taxi company's garage.  
  
Sam and Amanda yelling at each other on the street.  
  
Amanda crying, Alan hugging her.  
  
Sam crying and pushing Alan away from her.  
  
Sam and Amanda hugging.  
  
Phil holding Sam's hand, walking in the middle of Times Square.  
  
Sam and Phil sitting beside each other at a diner booth with Amanda, Stu and Alan on the other side [photo probably taken by waitress]  
  
Stu, shirtless, in the hotel suite dining room, taking off his pants.  
  
Stu wearing his tie around his head like Rambo, flexing his muscles.  
  
Alan's bare ass.  
  
Phil lying in bed, Sam beside him and both probably naked underneath the bedsheet Phil is pulling up.  
  
Phil's hand out from underneath the covers, flipping the bird at whoever was taking the picture.  
  
Ruby, the macaw, perched on the bedside table and leaning over Mrs. Chow's ring laying there._


End file.
